Break Away
by Boque
Summary: After graduating from Hogwarts and moving to Paris to work at the prestigious Paris Amour magazine, Ginny receives an urgent owl from her family. She finally decides to come back home to the life she ran away from and the people she cherished the most.
1. I: Window

**Title**: Break Away

**Author**: Boque

**Rating**: PG-13

**Genre**: Romance/Drama

**Pairings**: Draco/Ginny

**Summary**: After graduating from Hogwarts and moving to Paris to work at the prestigious Paris Amour magazine, Ginny receives an urgent owl from her family. She finally decides to come back home to the life she ran away from and the people she cherished the most.

* * *

"_Le café, ma chérie_?" asked a grinning Crawford.

Ginny laughed. "How many times do I have to tell you that I don't date?" she reminded him, filing her notes on the recent opening of the new _Vie En Vie _restaurant. One night of boisterous laughs and amazing wine and the place was an utter hit. Socialites all over the world called to make appointments and Ginny couldn't keep track of all the press.

"How about a night of unadulterated passion?" he drawled, licking his lips.

She was revolted, but she held it in. "I'm sorry, Crawford, but I must decline," she said swiftly, gathering her things and leaving his office.

"How about we review our article over dinner?"

"_My_ article," she corrected, smirking at the door. "And no – there will be no dinner."

He pouted like a child, hoping to obtain her pity. "Not even a kiss, _mon amour_?"

"No," she chirped, opening the glass door. "And I'm not your love!" Ginny called out as she left, causing a few sniggers in the other cubicles.

"Tease!" he declared, picking up his telephone. "Jeanine, my darling, would you like to do lunch?"

Passing her editor's office undetected, Ginny smiled in joy and bolted for the elevator. Dartanian had been hounding her all week for her article on fashion designer Violet Vixen, but Ginny had yet to conclude her difficult article. Violet was enthralling and inviting and Ginny found that she simply could not stop interviewing her. Countless lunches, nights at the best clubs, and dining with Greek businessmen were a few of the many exciting luxuries that Violet loved to do and Ginny discovered that she began to love it as well. The rich life grew on Ginny and although she was still the same Weasley inside, she had transformed from the younger sister to the top writer at _Amour_ magazine.

She graduated Hogwarts with honors in all her courses, but she knew that merely being a witch was not enough for her. It took several outside classes in London and innumerable stories for her to realize that writing was her passion – and her forte. She was praised constantly for her amazing skill in weaving a tale. Her classmates begged her to continue writing, craving for an ending to her novels. Ginny obliged them, happy to write and proud to see that they enjoyed it.

It all went extremely well until a certain Slytherin demanded her to stop her incessant fiction. She had huffed and turned up her nose, sure she would never give up her talent for someone as arrogant as him.

And it had all started shortly after that. Argument after argument, Ginny had peeled away the exterior of that cold, conceited boy and revealed something she could not resist.

Adjusting her wool jacket, Ginny shook away all thoughts of him and stuffed her hands in her pockets. When everything in her life went truly well, her mind would stray to the passionate nights of entangled limbs and moments of affectionate kisses in hidden alcoves. She was still in love with him and she knew it needed to stop.

She dated many men – some wealthy, some living off their lyrics. Some of the men were sweet, others were daring. Although most of them were well suited to marry her, she found herself comparing them to him. No one tested her like he did. None of the men wrapped their arms around her waist with the same aggression that he harbored. No man would ever compare to the man she once held with all her strength.

She thought she was going to marry Draco Malfoy, but she was wrong, and that alone spurred her to leave her home and family and start anew in Paris.

Her family objected to the idea at first, but nothing could stop Ginny. She was determined and their protests were feeble. After a few months in Paris, Ginny lost contact with them altogether, but she assumed they would understand. She needed to live her life alone and find a name for herself. She sent them occasional letters and called every once in a while, but her life at the magazine and socials were demanding and her attention had to be focused solely on that. It had been a long two years, but it didn't feel so stretched to her.

Lost in her thoughts once again, Ginny jumped when her cell phone rang deafeningly in her pocket. She immediately picked it up. "Hello?"

"Ginny!" yelled the panicked voice of her close friend Marjorie.

Ginny stopped suddenly. "Marjorie? _Qu'est-ce que c'est? _What's the matter?"

"_Un hibou! Il vole partout_!" she shrieked. "There is an owl in your room! I came to drop off _ton courier _and I found it sitting by your window!"

Ginny's eyes widened. "_Juste attends!_ Stay there and do not move. Don't hurt it. I'm right around the corner," she said in a hurry, shutting the phone and running to a nearby alley. Ginny rarely ever used her wand, but an owl meant that someone back in England was trying to reach her. And that someone was a witch or wizard. Whipping out her wand, Ginny Apparated immediately to the front door of her flat.

It was open. Ginny walked through and found her letters scattered all over the ground. She stepped into the living room and screeched when she spotted Marjorie holding up a broom to protect herself from the harmless owl. "Marjorie!" she laughed.

Her friend did not find anything humorous in the situation. "Ginny, _arrête de me rire_!" she ordered, red in the face. "It will not go away and I do not know how it got into the house! The window was closed!"

Ginny kept giggling, sliding off her coat and putting down her briefcase. "I'll take care of it. Can you just make me a pot of tea?" she asked sweetly.

"How are you calm in a situation like this?" Marjorie looked horrified.

"It's an _owl_. There are many in England," Ginny replied, gently taking the broom from her friend. "Pot of tea?"

Marjorie nodded, still a bit shaken. She woodenly walked to the kitchen. Ginny made sure she was gone and rushed to the bedroom, shut the door, and motioned for the owl to come close. When it did, she snatched the parchment from its claws and tore it open.

It was from her mother.

Ginny scanned each line. Losing all breath, her face drained of color.

_ Ginny, dear,_

_ I know you are working very hard right now and I am so sorry to deliver the news this way. We stopped using the pheletone and Ron told me that you've changed your address. I had no other way to reach you, darling._

_ Percy died this afternoon. I know this is sudden and we expected such a speedy recovery after his head injury, but it became worse. He did say his goodbyes and went peacefully. He was so very proud of your writing accomplishments._

_The funeral will be this Friday at the Winston Church._

_ Oh, sweetheart, I do hope you make it for your brother._

_ I will love you always,_

_ Mum_

Quivering now, Ginny let the parchment slip from her fingers to the carpeted floor. She knew Percy had been hospitalized, but they assured her that he would be fine. She was busy writing a feature on the Love Parade, so she had no time to check back with them. Her deadlines were swarming at the time and there was no getting in touch with them in such chaos. Ginny looked down at the parchment and shut her eyes. She could make excuses all she wanted, but in the end, she ignored the obvious signs of his condition and now her brother was dead.

Letting out a shaky breath, she grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled some drivel about attending. She attached it to Pig's leg and sent him off. Pig glared from the open window before he left, as if silently telling Ginny that she was a selfish hag.

Ginny didn't disagree.

She took another deep, ragged breath and slowly began packing. She only owned one little black dress and she never imagined wearing it at a funeral – her _brother's_ funeral. Her mind was empty and her heart felt hollow.

In the midst of packing her night gown, the door opened and Marjorie waltzed in with two cups of steaming tea. "Mango for you and green tea for me!" she declared, chuckling. She froze when she saw the state Ginny was in. "Ginevra? _Quel est le problème_? What is wrong?" she asked, worried.

Ginny swallowed, unable to form the next sentence. "My brother …" she started, beginning to sob uncontrollably.

Marjorie dropped the cups on the ground, disregarding the mess, and enveloped her friend in a bruising hug. "Oh, Ginny," she sighed, caressing her back.

"I need to get to England as soon as possible," she murmured, sniffling and stepping back. She regained her composure. "I'll take a red eye flight," she lied, knowing she would Apparate at a time like this. "I'll ring you when I get you home."

Marjorie nodded and kept her questions to herself. She knew Ginny would confide in her when she was ready. "_Bien sûr, ma chérie_," she whispered, helping her pack her belongings. "If you need me to come …" she offered compassionately.

"_Merci beaucoup_, Marjorie. I will definitely take you up on that if needed," Ginny smiled slightly.

"Come," she left to gather some shoes from Ginny's wardrobe. "You'll need comfortable clothing. Leave all these _scandaleux_ shoes behind," she called from inside the walk-in closet.

It was hard to grin, but Ginny managed a semblance of a smirk. She and Marjorie packed in silence together and Ginny quickly got ready before her speedy trip back to Ottery St. Catchpole. Marjorie walked her out of the flat and onto the street, suggesting they share a taxi to the airport.

Ginny shook her head. "I think I want to be alone for a little," she said softly.

"Of course, darling. Call me as soon as you get back to England?"

"Yes," Ginny began crying again, "I will."

Marjorie hugged her friend one last time and waved a goodbye as she walked the two blocks to her apartment down the cobblestone street. She spun around every once in a while, concerned.

Ginny stared until Marjorie made her left turn. She ran back into the lobby of her building, snooped around to ensure no one was present, gripped her wand and wished herself home.

She landed on the grounds of The Burrow in a matter of seconds. Swallowing, Ginny looked up at her lopsided house and for the first time in her life, she felt intimidated. What would they think? What would they say? She wasn't sure if they would welcome her back after all of these years. She gripped her suitcase and awkwardly walked towards the back door in her expensive stilettos. The thin heels dug into the wet mud and she cringed, terrified of ruining them.

She reached the back door and she took in the smell of the kitchen. It was still the same. The plates were cracked, the table was old and chipping, and the same ragged blankets were strewn across the room. It looked exactly the way she left it, but it seemed so different now up close. She quietly opened the door and stepped through, wondering where everyone was.

She dropped her belongings on a nearby chair and meandered into the living room. She glanced up at the large family clock. She smiled when her arrow pointed "home". She searched the rest of the family and found that they were at the Ministry. Fighting another urge to cry, she wrapped her arms around herself when she noticed Percy's arrow pointed to "lost". Ginny stepped back and looked away instantaneously, unable to let the truth seep in.

Deciding on getting settled in her old room, Ginny grabbed her things again and walked slowly up the stairs. Their childhood pictures were still scattered randomly over the walls: Ron playing Quidditch at Hogwarts, Fred and George playing a nasty prank on Dad, Charlie making hilarious faces at the camera, and her mother planting in the garden. There were so many pictures and so many memories and Ginny felt ashamed reliving them. She nearly forgot those beautiful moments that used to be etched in her mind.

She gasped aloud when she entered her room. It was almost as if she walked into the past. The pink bedding was still fresh, the drapery was pulled back, her belongings were free of dust, and her posters were still as vivid as ever. Her shocked face softened. They knew she would come back someday and they waited for her.

She changed into her night clothes leisurely. She reveled in the feeling of home again. Paris was beautiful and lively, but nothing felt like the Burrow. Donned in her best designer night wear, a short one piece satin gown, Ginny slid into the slippers that Violet Vixen designed for her and walked back down the stairs. She needed a drink and she remembered where Mum hid away the liquor.

She stopped short when her family began to pop all throughout the living room. She stayed within the shadows and held her breath when she saw each one of them. _They looked so different_, she thought, holding a hand to her mouth. It could've been the exhaustion or the sheer sadness in their eyes, but the Weasleys had changed and Ginny wasn't there to experience it.

Her eyes became as wide as saucers when more and more people Apparated into the living room. Luna Lovegood. Neville Longbottom. Penelope Clearwater. People from her past were appearing left and right and Ginny began to walk backwards up the stairs. How could she face them? How could she run into their arms after being absent for two whole years?

She was almost up the stairs when her mother screamed deafeningly. She had seen the clock. Ginny froze.

"Ginny?!" she screeched frantically.

* * *

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	2. II: Fast Lane

**Chapter II**

**Fast Lane

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**

Using up every last ounce of bravery within her, Ginny strolled down the stairs, trying to feign confidence. She felt naked in her clothing. "Mum," she managed to choke, before the red-headed woman attacked her with hugs and kisses. Ginny took in the smell of her mother and gripped her tighter. Percy's death shot at her like a fast bullet and she sobbed into her mother's neck, shaking violently.

"Oh, Gin," her mother consoled her.

Ginny faintly heard a few more pops, but she disregarded it through her watery haze. "Oh, Mum," she whimpered, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." She whispered the phrase over and over, her knees beginning to get weak.

Another pair of hands held her from behind and she continued to cry.

"Gin," rasped Ron.

Ginny pulled away from her mother and wiped away her tears, remembering the familiar eyes around her. She held in another batch of tears and spun around. She was met with the soothing eyes of her brother. "Ronald," she smiled through her tears. His hair was longer, his face more angular, and he was so much taller. He had matured, Ginny could tell.

"Let's get into the kitchen. I'll bring you a robe and make you a pot of tea." He could tell she was overwhelmed with the news of Percy and her uneasiness with the environment was obvious. He was sure she needed time to settle. He wrapped his dark cloak around her, a bit uncomfortable with her choice of clothing, and led her to the kitchen.

The rest of her brothers followed suit and each took a turn in hugging and greeting her. She sat down, finally feeling a sense of love and warmth. Tears formed in her eyes again when she realized that Percy was not there.

"How've you been, Gin?" Charlie spoke up, pouring her a cup of hot tea.

"I've been fine," she answered shortly. "I'm more interested on how you all have been," she confessed.

"We've been all right. Fred and George have gone global, Ron transferred to Puddlemere, and Percy …" He stopped, forgetting himself. "He, uh, he was working under a new minister before …"

"You stopped writing us," Fred accused, staring directly at her.

"I was so busy with work and-" Ginny tried to explain.

"Too busy to speak to your own family?" George interrupted curtly.

Swallowing fearfully, Ginny shook her head. "No, George, that wasn't it … I was so involved with the magazine and-"

"And traipsing off with rich men and drinking champagne," George finished for her coldly. He stood up and dusted off his robes. "I can see why you would be ashamed to contact us after experiencing the good life."

Insulted, Ginny stood up as well, her Weasley temper flaring. "I was _never_ ashamed of you!" she exclaimed.

"George," Ron warned. "You promised you wouldn't do this."

"She only comes here after finding out that Percy has died. She's here out of _guilt_," George stressed, each word piercing at Ginny's heart. "She never cared when he got into his accident. She never came." He glared at Ginny, his eyes icy. "Coming here isn't a penitence for what you have done. I could give a bloody _fuck_ if you were ashamed of me, but I sure as hell am ashamed of _you_."

He left the room after his last statement.

"Gin, he didn't mean what he said," Bill said gently.

"He's so right," Ginny whispered, sitting back down. "I've failed you all. I've failed Percy and Mum and Dad and …"

"You should probably get to bed," Ron suggested airily.

"Ron's right," agreed Bill, standing up. "I'll help you up."

"Why is everyone here?" Ginny asked inaudibly.

"We're just discussing Percy's memorial. The Ministry believes he deserves one after all the hard work he's done with them," replied Charlie.

_He seemed so brave_, Ginny thought to herself. Charlie must be dying inside. "Shouldn't I be present for such a decision?" she wondered out loud.

Bill fidgeted apprehensively. "We think it best that you just sleep for now and we can talk about things tomorrow," he answered kindly.

They didn't want her there. Ginny nodded, deeply hurt. She got up and tightened the robe around her. "I … I don't want to go back in there after …" She ceased with her rambling. She was a coward and she knew it.

"You can use Ron's broom to get to your bedroom window," Charlie stated, understanding her trepidation. "It should be unlocked."

She sauntered towards the door and then spun around. "You have no idea," she croaked, "How sorry I am for not being here. I just … I never knew that this-"

"You should sleep," said Ron, giving her a small smile.

She nodded. Her apologies were not enough for everything she had missed. Ginny expected some agitation from her siblings, but nothing on this level of aloofness and dismissal. She walked out the door, this time not looking back.

Charlie turned to Fred. "What the fuck was that?" he asked viciously.

Fred turned away callously. "She deserved it," he defended resolutely.

"She's fucking _terrified_!" Charlie urged, slamming an open hand onto the table. It shook violently on its cracked legs. "You _knew_ she would be scared, Fred. You knew that she would have no idea how to act. Why the hell did you decide to bombard her? And to open a bloody door for George to just _walk_ right through? Good fucking job," he sneered.

Fred snapped his head to stare at him, incensed. "She hasn't spoken to us in over a _year_," he said cruelly. "Now she thinks she can stride into this house in her luxurious clothing and be welcomed like a fucking _queen_? I don't ruddy think so."

"She doesn't even look like herself," Bill said fully, pouring himself a glass of Firewhisky. He downed it in one gulp. "She doesn't look like Ginny."

Charlie looked at him, appalled. "You're going to support what George said?"

Bill shrugged. "I don't condone the way he said it, but, _fuck_, Charlie," he said angrily, ferociously putting down his glass. "Look at her! She's not Ginny. She walks differently, she talks differently … she just-"

"She's like _them_," Fred hissed.

"Like who?" Charlie bellowed. "Huh? _Like who_?"

"The fucking wealthy purebloods," Bill yelled from the other side of the table. "Isn't it obvious?"

Ron, who stayed silent throughout the whole conversation, interrupted them. "She is accustomed to a particular environment," he declared, his voice low and calm. "We can't blame her for feeling alien here."

"This is her _home_," Bill stressed slowly. "I don't mind that she lived in France – fuck, I don't mind that she had a completely different social scene – but, what pisses me the hell off is that she never owled, she never visited … she never contacted us _once_ during her time there. How the hell can she live her life without her family?"

"Like she cares," mumbled Fred furiously. "Percy is gone and now she's feeling blameworthy."

"Stop it," Ron said quietly. "She's still our sister. We need to give her time."

"And if she never changes?" Bill asked curiously.

Charlie balled his fists. "Don't say that," he growled.

"She is who she is," replied Ron, still composed. "We can't change her now. We just need to accept it."

"Did you give her the letter yet?" Fred changed the subject.

"I will when she's ready." Ron undid his robe and threw it over the kitchen counter.

"And when the hell will we know that?" asked Bill.

"We'll know."

Four brothers contemplated in silence. They had already lost one sibling, did they really want to risk losing another?

* * *

Ginny flew into her bedroom without any problems. She didn't bother to close the window, nor did she put away the broom. She sank into her childhood bed and wept for everything that had occurred. She wept for her selfishness, her family, their disapproving looks, and her inability to be herself with them. She wept for Percy and his short life and her absence from his last days on the earth. She wept for her stupidity and her inane reasons for leaving behind people who had loved her so dearly.

For the first time in years, Ginny sobbed uncontrollably and unashamedly into her pillow. She deserved the verbal lashing out that George had given her. She deserved the shocked and disappointed looks of the other occupants in her living room. She deserved to be treated as an outsider.

She never ran out of tears, but her cries turned into light weeping and she laid back to stare at the blank ceiling. She had lost their love in the midst of her career and her suave life in Paris. It was now her job to gain it back. She knew it would take time and she would need to devote every moment to having them back, but she would do it. She would ring Dartanian in the morning and inform him of a long vacation and give her last articles for Crawford to finish. She would ask Marjorie to pack all her things at her apartment and send them to the Burrow. And last, but not least, she would finally take hold of her life and realize what was most important.

She closed her eyes and thought of Percy.

_I'm sorry_, she thought, a tear seeping from her closed lids. _I missed so much of your life. I missed so much of theirs. _She let a sob escape through her mouth.

_I love you_.

* * *

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	3. III: Keep Moving On

**Chapter III**

**Keep Moving On**

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**

"Oh, Ronald, _chew_ your food!" Molly scolded, calling for her wand which came zipping to her. She charmed the floor clean. "You are spitting up eggs all over the ground!"

Ron blushed but still continued to eat like a starving beast. "Mum, these eggs are delicious. I'm sorry if I compliment you in a way that renders me disgusting."

Molly laughed and ruffled his red hair. "You could say a simple thank you and I would be happy," she chirped, sitting beside him.

Arthur snorted. "Ronald will never cease the way he eats," he said matter-of-factly. "It's the Weasley blood."

Charlie chuckled, adding more potatoes to his plate. "I'm going to have to agree, Mum. I haven't married yet because of my atrocious eating."

"You haven't married yet because you want to continue breaking my heart," she corrected, pointing a finger. "_You_ need to find a wife before you turn old and gray like your father."

"Old and gray?" Arthur asked aloud. "I'd like to think of myself as sturdy and red!"

"Cheers!" George announced, laughing insanely. He chugged his orange juice.

The laughter died down when Ginny appeared at the kitchen door.

Arthur smiled warmly. "Come, Gin," he gestured for her to sit beside him. "I've saved this spot for you."

She rushed over and pulled him into a strong hug. "Dad," she whispered, gripping him as if he would fade away at any second.

He squeaked. "I think you were right about the old and gray sentiment, Molly," he managed to choke.

Ginny pulled away and wiped a few stray tears from her face. "Look at you," she said, smiling. "Still the same old fart who chased me into the forest."

He chortled uproariously. "My Gods, Ginny. You've grown up so much." He placed a hand over hers. "I'm glad you're home."

"So am I," she whispered. She dragged her plate closer to her body and spooned herself a heap of bacon. "Mum, this looks divine," she praised, dumping a large amount of eggs onto her plate as well.

Molly grinned. "I see your appetite hasn't changed, dear," she said warmly. She watched Ginny wistfully, reveling in the fact that she was home.

"My friends have tried to convince me to change my diet, but I couldn't," she divulged automatically, eating a spoonful of potatoes. "They were all models, so they were sickly thin. I would eat almost _anything_ in front of them just to piss them off."

"Nice watch," Fred murmured from across the table.

Ginny stopped eating and looked at it. She turned to Fred, still worried about an outburst. "I bought it a year ago. It looks just like Mum's."

"How much was it?"

Molly passed along a bowl of pudding. "Now, Fred, why don't you try some of my chocolate-"

"How much was it?" he cut his mother off.

Ginny straightened her spine, not backing down. "What currency do you prefer? Galleons or euros?"

Fred smirked bitterly. "Give it to me in galleons. I think I might be too daft for euros."

"1244 galleons, 7 sickles and 5 knuts," Ginny replied stonily. She raised an eyebrow. "Anything else? This dress was 20 galleons, 13 sickles and 17 knuts. And my shoes were 62 galleons, 4 sickles and 22 knuts." She was always great with keeping track of her money. When she indulged in shopping, she kept a close count of every knut she spent.

Fred sneered, "How about the posh and haughty attitude? Was that pricey as well?"

"_Fred_!" snapped Molly, face red.

He gave Ginny one last look of fury and stalked stiffly out of the room.

Ginny continued to eat her breakfast as noiselessly as she could. _So much for trying_, she thought to herself.

Ron cleared his throat and stood up. "I'm off to the florist to pick out the flowers," he stated, grabbing his robe and slipping it on. He glanced at his sister. "Gin, would you like to come?"

She nodded quickly, dropping her fork. She mumbled a faint goodbye and shuffled out of the kitchen, Ron behind her.

"Fred and George are just hurt, Gin," he informed her once they were outside. "They don't mean a thing they say."

"No matter," she said flippantly. "I deserve it."

He stopped her. "You don't deserve a thing."

She moved aside and proceeded to walk. "Oh, I do," she said softly, trekking up the hill in her slingback sandals.

Ron shook his head. "We can stop and Apparate here. Mum changed the wards so Skeeter would stop snooping."

"But ... you all Apparated into the living room last night," she said.

He sighed. "Later that night, we found a beetle sitting in the living room flower pot. Charlie had to erase her memory. She had notes on everything that went on."

Ginny didn't say anything. Her eyes widened. "Oh, fuck, I forgot my wand."

"How in the hell do you forget that?" he asked, amazed.

She shrugged. "I hardly use it in Paris. I really have no need for it."

He held her close and muttered before they Apparated, "Maybe you should've used it to see us."

They popped into the greenhouse of the florist.

Ginny was fuming as Ron stalked away towards the saleslady. She grabbed his elbow and spun him around. "How _dare_ you!" she said through her teeth. "I thought you were on _my_ side."

"_Your_ side?" He laughed in disbelief. "You have _no_ side. I'm not choosing anything. I'm being polite and respectful because this isn't a time for petty fights," he exclaimed, eyes flashing.

"What?" she breathed.

"I _said_ this isn't a time for petty fights. We should be mourning the loss of Percy and honoring his memory. Fred and George are acting out their grief," he said to her, lowering his voice to avoid eavesdropping. "What the hell are you doing?"

Speechless, she stared.

"You're here because you think that Percy's death is your fault." He finally said the truth and Ginny felt winded. "But it isn't. Percy didn't die because of _you_. You need to realize that you haven't uttered a word to us unless we provoked a letter or a _sound_ from you. You didn't kill him, but you weren't _there_ for him when he died."

Ginny looked away and gazed at the plants, her vision becoming hazy. "Did you hate me?" she rasped.

"Yes," he answered honestly.

She nodded understandingly. Taking a deep breath, she eyed a beautiful, delicate row of lilies in front of her. She walked to them and inhaled. "These are beautiful," she whispered. "Percy always liked tulips and lilies."

"We'll have to get a few bouquets then," Ron said distantly, stepping away and calling for the florist.

Ginny willed herself not to cry. She knew it had been a few years, but Ron had matured so much. The clown that kept her laughing was gone. She assumed this change was caused by Percy's death, but she could never be too sure. She didn't know what was going on his life. But she wanted to find out.

"My sister is actually here to help us choose them," she heard him say from behind her. She sniffled and rubbed away another batch of hot tears. She turned around and smiled brightly, gagging at her fake sugariness.

"Hello," she greeted the florist.

"Why, you're Ginevra Weasley from Paris, aren't you?" she squealed excitedly.

"Yes, I am. I'm sorry. Have we met before?"

"What? No! I read your column in _Amour_. My husband frequents _Amiens_ and he brings home all my favorite reads," she gushed gaily. "Your articles are my most preferred."

Ginny was flattered. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

"I'm still looking out for the next installment on Violet Vixen!" the florist hinted, winking. "My husband adores her lingerie line."

Ginny laughed. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. She's actually one of the up and coming designers right now. The article really helped shed some light on her pieces."

"When do you plan on publishing the next feature?"

"Oh," Ginny squirmed, "I'm actually going to leave that up to one of my colleagues. I'm on leave right now and-"

"Oh my God," muttered the woman, becoming flustered. "Of course! I'm so sorry. I can be so insensitive sometimes. Your brother," she looked at Ron, "Well, of course you are here for a reason." She stopped babbling. "Oh, Miss Weasley, I am _extremely_ sorry for your loss. I offer my condolences."

"Thank you, Mrs. ...?"

"Mrs. Muir," she replied, shaking Ginny's hand. "Please call me Ellen."

"I appreciate your sentiments, Ellen," Ginny said kindly.

"Well, you were interested in the lilies for the funeral?" she inquired, walking towards them. "We have about ten different species of lilies here, right now, in the greenhouse ..." She continued talking and walking.

Ginny didn't hear a thing after the word funeral. _A funeral_, she thought sadly, _Percy's funeral_. She followed Ron and Ellen wordlessly, nodding her head every once in a while to seem conscious.

" .... Why Mrs. Malfoy was here just the other day demanding an entire room full of tiger lilies. They're very popular in the springtime and I'm sure-"

"Mrs. Malfoy?" Ginny said without thinking.

"Yes! She orders from us every season," Ellen said proudly, missing the look of pain on Ginny's face.

Ron stared at her, confused. "I thought you knew, Gin? Parkinson married Malfoy a few weeks after you left for Paris."

"No," she shook her head, her mind elsewhere, "I didn't know."

"Well, yeah," Ron kept speaking, examining a tiger lily, "They married and months later, he was appointed the Minister."

Ginny froze. "He _what_?"

"Politicians," drawled Ellen, amused. "Mrs. Malfoy has great connections within the Ministry and everyone knew that they would be the most powerful couple in the Wizarding world." She rolled her eyes, finding the situation funny. "I suspected the two would marry after they dated so long in school. It was only a matter of time."

Ginny listened to her carefully, hoping to keep her stoic façade.

"They were all over the society pages. Dinners and romantic getaways. They also traveled to Paris for their honeymoon!" she gossiped.

Ginny felt the bile rise in her throat.

"She came back before him, though. He supposedly had some business to deal with in France." She leaned in close to Ginny. "I think he had some illegal transactions, if you catch my _heavy_ drift."

Ginny swallowed hard, feeling sick to her stomach.

"They say she's pregnant now," she sighed, scribbling something on a parchment that was on the table.

"Excuse me," she moaned, running in-between them. She dashed outside and retched her breakfast into a nearby bush. Breathing harshly, she refused to let out any more tears. Her emotions now belonged to her family, not to some egotistical prat who broke her heart. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and held onto the brick wall of support.

Married. Draco Malfoy married Pansy Parkinson. They were happy. He was the Minister and she was the doting wife. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut. They were going to have a family.

* * *

I want to address some reviews I've received:

- No one is currently dying. Percy is dead. He has died. Please read EVERY word of the fiction if you'd like to know exactly what is going on.

- As far as the Weasleys being "harsh" - but if I were absent for two years from my family & didn't contact them once as I live my glorious and rich life, I'm sure they'd be pissed as fuck.

- The chapter was short because I refuse to have Draco appear so damn quickly after two years. This isn't going to be one of this fics where they instantly get together. I'm sorry, guys, but that just isn't real life.

- As far as the Weasleys being "portrayed" as accepting, this is a fanfiction! I'm sure they're seen as sweet & loving in the books, but these are different circumstances.

- Draco will show up soon enough - please be patient. If you're looking for him to be here right away, you'll be waiting a while. This is a story about Ginny's life after she returns to her family that she hasn't seen. After she faces everyone - INCLUDING Draco. Believe me, when he appears, you will not be sorry for waiting.

- Last, but not least, your reviews are **so **appreciated :) The questions seem a bit unnecessary, but I'm always happy to answer them.

- I'm also waiting for that next insane review to post up the next chapter. I read one awesome review & I loved it :)

- Do visit sydentherese(dot)com.


	4. IIII: Small Town

**Chapter IV**

**Small Town

* * *

**

"Gin!"

Ron was calling for her. She tied her hair back and hoped she didn't smell like her own vomit. Composing herself, she strode back into the greenhouse. Ron had chosen the white lilies and lavender tulips for the funeral reception. He held out a deep red rose for her. "What do you think of these for the wake?"

"They're gorgeous," she croaked. She cleared her throat almost instantly. "I love them," she said, her voice completely coming back to her.

He eyeballed her. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he commented lightly, plucking out another rose.

"It just felt so hot in here," she explained smoothly. "I couldn't breathe."

He nodded, seemingly accepting her clarification. "You think we should mix white and red?"

"To balance it out?" She took the white rose from him and smelled it. "Where did Ellen go?"

"She had a call from the office, apparently," Ron replied, not really paying attention. "How about a deep blue with white?"

"What else changed after I left?" she asked softly, not meeting his inquiring eyes.

He obliged her. "Well, Harry keeps moving back and forth from England and India. He's doing a bit of charity work in-between his job as an Auror." He perused through the flowers, his mind on Percy and the funeral. "Hermione is a top researcher at the Ministry. We partly have Malfoy to thank for that. He assigned her a high profile case and she did splendidly." There was no malice in his voice, but Ginny knew his mind was preoccupied.

"Would she ..." Ginny struggled to ask. "Would she mind seeing me?"

"Of course," responded Ron immediately. "They don't know you're here yet, but we could stop by the Ministry if you want. She should have a break sometime soon."

"No!" Ginny said a bit too piercingly. She turned red with embarrassment at her verbal explosion. "We can make plans for dinner," she suggested meekly.

"Well, she'll be busy for the next few weeks," he dove into a bush of daffodils, "She has another case and I saw a cot in her office three days ago. So I'm sure she's sleeping there."

"She could stop by the Burrow," said Ginny, dreading the idea of seeing more familiar faces - specifically one - at the Ministry.

"Well, she will be at the wake, but I'm sure you want to see her before that, right?"

Ginny would just have to muster up her Gryffindor bravery and deal. "Yeah, sure. We can bring her some lunch in a bit."

"Great!" he exclaimed, holding a wild array of flowers. "I think these should be enough for the wake, funeral, and reception."

"What about the memorial?" She recalled their conversation the night before - and their obvious refusal to let her in on their private discussion.

"We decided against it," he said cryptically.

She waited for an explanation.

"_And_?" she pursued.

"Ellen," he called, rushing to her and handing her the flowers. They discussed the details, including the amount they would need sent and the price.

Ginny intervened. "I'll pay for the flowers," she announced to Ellen.

"What? No!" stammered Ron.

Rolling her eyes, Ginny filched the quill from Ellen's hand and scribbled her account number on her clipboard. "Run the numbers by me when you've got them calculated and I'll send word to Gringotts that you'll be accepting payment."

"Gin," Ron hissed, pulling her aside. "You don't have to do this."

Ginny glared at him. "My bank sent money _monthly_ to Mum and Dad and you _all_ refused to accept it. At least let me contribute _something_."

"You're already contributing a lot just by being here, Gin," he said sensitively.

Ginny smiled softly. It was the kindest thing she'd heard since coming back. "I still want to help," she took advantage of his sudden lapse of indifference.

"My account," she mouthed to Ellen, who winked at her.

Ron sighed tiredly. "Fine. Come on. We'll pick up a bit of take away for Hermione. Do you like Indian?"

"The men or the food?" she teased, laughing at Ron's disgusted face.

"I did _not_ need that mental image."

* * *

"_Ginny_!"

Ginny felt the air rush out of her when Hermione squeezed her as tight as she possibly could. She tried to hug her back, but she was literally entrapped in Hermione's arms. "All right," she said through her curly hair. "I think we've hugged enough."

Smiling, Hermione stepped back and took a long look. "You look stunning. Paris has been so kind to you," she complimented, patting a leather chair. "Sit! We have so much to catch up on." She sat down across from the redhead. "Well, _you_ have stories to tell me. I haven't so much as left this office since I was appointed this position."

Ginny grinned. "You love it, though, don't you? You were always so great at _investigating_," she whispered the last part, wriggling her eyebrows.

Hermione laughed. "It's not as scandalous as you think. I've actually been cooped up in here learning about the ins and outs of company outsourcing. The media is having a field day with a company in the States." Hermione passed Ginny a bowl of paneer, an Indian cheese. She looked up at Ron. "Do you want a cup of coffee? I can have my assistant bring us some."

He shook his head and collapsed onto the plush sofa beside Hermione. He didn't waste any time in shoveling the food in his mouth.

She faced Ginny again. "So, tell me about this life in Paris. I've been there a few times on meetings, but I've never fully enjoyed it."

"Well, it's breathtaking," Ginny described wistfully, "There is music everywhere and the food is just divine. The people are a bit uptight, but it's all about where you go and who you meet. Oh, Hermione, you would love this downtown art museum. It's all unknown artists who come together and just _paint_. If they are paid for their art, they're paid. If not, they live just as happily. It's so fantastic."

Hermione sighed, popping another paneer in her mouth. "I'm so jealous."

"I fell in love with the city the first night I landed."

"And the magazine? How is it? Ron and I keep _all_ your articles in a scrapbook back at the Burrow," she told her cheerfully.

Ginny looked at her brother expectantly. "You never told me that."

He shrugged, looking a bit discomfited. "Never came up," he grumbled through his food.

"I _loved_ the article you wrote about the Love Parade. I told Ron that we should go when it happens again!"

Ginny and Hermione talked freely for a few hours, disregarding Ron's growing snores and Hermione's irate boss. Ginny felt as if she never left and she was so grateful for Hermione's friendly welcome.

"I just couldn't believe it!" Hermione said, still in doubt. "When I was given the assignment, I thought for _sure_ it was a joke. I just went with it and discovered all these dirty dealings in Germany. After that, I was the most sought after researcher in England."

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Ginny, so proud of her friend's accomplishments.

"You were off living your own life and no one had a definite way to reach you, so," Hermione shrugged dismissively and ate a piece of Indian bread.

Guilt was an emotion that never left Ginny. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "I'm so sorry for being a stuck-up slag that only cared for herself."

"You're not a stuck-up slag," retorted Hermione, shaking her head. "I understand that you needed your space. Gin," she held her hand tightly, "you don't have to constantly feel sorry for not being here. We all have our lives to live. I'm just glad that you could be here now, even if the circumstances are unfortunate."

"He needed his family and I wasn't there." Ginny sat back and let go of Hermione's hand. "I let him down. I let _everyone_ down."

"How about," started Hermione, "you stop this pity party and live your life?" She began putting away all the food, but continued talking. "I understand that your family is a bit miffed with you-"

"A bit miffed?" Ginny asked bleakly.

"All right. _Fucking_ mad as hell," she corrected, throwing their trash in the garbage, "but they love you and because of this, they will forgive you. It just takes time."

"Yeah, but how long?" Ginny mumbled.

Hermione stopped and stared at her, exhausted and irritated. "You haven't spoken to us in over a _year_. Ginny, you just need to buck up and work with what you have. It will take some time, but it will be _so_ worth it in the end."

"Granger!" bellowed a voice from the intercom on Hermione's desk.

"And the devil calls," said Hermione. She pressed the red button and said lifelessly, "Yes?"

"I need those files, damn it! Where the bloody hell are they?!"

"Sending them over, sir," she replied, gathering her manila folders and jetting for the door. "I'll be back in a second!" she called over her shoulder.

Ginny let out a short breath and snorted when she spotted a trail of drool hanging from Ron's mouth to the floor. She stood up, shaking her head at his usual antics, and meandered to the mirror. She observed her kept appearance. Her hair was wispy and wavy, her beige dress was clean and structured, and her sandals matched the yellow hem. She sighed. "I'm so fucking predictable," she muttered.

Paris had given her a diverse outlook when it came to fashion, but Ginny was beginning to regret the particular outfit. It was a Damien Vego original, but it didn't suit her as well as she thought it did. It was so ... Queen of England. Ginny shuddered and looked away. "Don't let the clothes wear you," she reminded herself.

She snooped about Hermione's desk and smiled when she found a picture of them at her graduation. Ginny picked up the small frame and giggled when Ron tugged at Hermione's hair, causing her to deck him superbly.

The door opened and Ginny teased, "You have a _great_ right hook, 'Mione. I think Ron had that black eye for weeks."

She didn't hear an answer and looked up.

Her smile dropped.

She was staring into the astonished gray eyes of Draco Malfoy.

"Ginevra," he stated, as if convincing himself that it was her.

She slowly put the frame down in fear of dropping it with her quavering hands. She lifted her chin defiantly. "Minister," she greeted frostily.

* * *

You guys wanted Draco - you got him ;)

I've been getting a lot of questions that have been answered already in the story & I'm starting to wonder if you guys are really reading. Yes, Draco and Ginny had quite the affair before she left for France (this is explained in chapter one). Yes, she left because he broke her heart (this is in pretty much one, two & three).

Draco's plans for the Ministry will be showcased ... I forget which chapter, but it's in the near future, so don't worry.

And no, this fiction will NOT be like most others.

Enjoy this chapter :D Reviews, again, are lovely & amazing - so do take five seconds out of your day to review.

Lots of love,

sydentherese[dot]com


	5. V: Rush of the Ocean

**Chapter V**

**Rush of the Ocean

* * *

**

He had never expected her to appear so suddenly. He had always had his private investigator tail her. He knew when she ate lunch, knew her favorite restaurant, when she slept, who she invited into her bed. Draco knew everything and he refused to be kept out of the loop. He kept copies of her articles in his Gringotts vault and followed her social status in the French tabloids. He couldn't let her go. He wouldn't let her go.

His position as Minister meant everything to him, but without the solace of knowing what Ginny was doing, he became unhinged. He simply craved to be a part of her life, even if he lived vicariously through his investigator's camera lens.

When he finally married Pansy, as planned by his associates, he assumed he had everything. Ginny was out of his life for good, there were no longer any sordid attachments, and the position was in the palm of his hand. He was welcomed by the Wizarding world as the evil man turned philanthropist and reveled in the glory. Pansy's connections with various charities and powerful people furthered his movement. He became Minister within the year. He had exactly what he had wanted.

Or so he thought.

He did not expect her to flee the country. He did not expect her to start another life elsewhere without him watching over her. He wanted to find her, to take her, and convince her to come back. But his pride wouldn't allow it. His position wouldn't allow it. And his plans wouldn't allow it. He would never have her and because of that, his obsession grew.

It was only after the news of Percy Weasley's death did he know she would return. He presumed she'd be back in a matter of days. He didn't anticipate her presence so quickly.

_Gods_, he thought viciously, _she looked so different._ He eyed her hungrily and his eyes drank up every inch of her. She was thinner, he noticed. Her hair was a lighter shade of red. Her breasts grew fuller and her legs were so much longer. He stayed perfectly still, hoping to remember this image of her for the rest of time.

The photos did her no justice. They were always taken from a long distance or in the dark. He fired about three investigators for their lack of photography talent until he realized that pictures could _never_ compare to the real thing.

What shocked him was the overall ambiance she emitted. Gone was the timid weasel who stuttered and grumbled. Before him was a sophisticated woman with perfect posture and impeccable manners. He awaited a hex, a curse, or a book to be thrown at his head, but she just stood there.

He smirked when he observed the look of indignation on her face.

_Some things never change_.

"Can I help you?" she broke the silence icily.

"I'm looking for Granger," he drawled, greedily scrutinizing her body.

"She's not here," she answered curtly, looking away.

"Well, that much is obvious," he stated, amused. He leaned against the door frame. "Seems your brother is in a nightmare," he commented, watching Ron thrash in his sleep.

Ginny said nothing.

"I offer my condolences," he said abruptly.

Ginny looked up and stared at him.

"I worked quite closely with Percy and it was an honor to have him here at the Ministry," he said sincerely.

Breathing harshly now, Ginny nodded rapidly. Even Draco Malfoy had spent time with her brother before his death. She swallowed before saying, "Ron told me that the Ministry had wanted to perform a memorial."

"It was the least we could do. Your family refused, however." He studied her intensely.

They seemed so casual, but Ginny knew better. Inside, she was shaking fiercely and her thoughts trailed to his marriage and his baby_. God, his wife was pregnant_. He was going to have a family. A family that did not include her. She needed to do something. Moving speedily, she opened the window and took a breath of cold, fresh air. It smelled like spring.

"Feeling under the weather?"

She wanted to answer - she wanted to say something saucy and daring - but she lost all control of her body. She gripped the window frame instead.

"Are you ever going to answer me?"

His voice was firm, but low. He always used that tone when he wanted her to listen - to _strain_ to hear his commands. She wouldn't bend to his will now. _Not like this,_ she thought.

"Ginny!"

At the sound of Hermione's voice, Ginny spun around, thankful.

"Minister!" Hermione was surprised to see Draco standing in her office. "Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked, perplexed.

"Actually, Granger, I was wondering if you were able to obtain those files for me," he replied, facing her. "I'd like them sent to my office as soon as possible."

Hermione stared at him for a few seconds ahead of saying, "Of course."

He nodded to her.

Throwing Ginny one last smoldering look, he exited the office.

The redhead closed her eyes and missed the shameful look etched on Hermione's features. "Should we wake Ron then?" she said breathlessly.

"You okay?" Hermione asked, concerned.

"I'm absolutely fine," she quipped shortly.

"Do you need to use the restroom, Gin?"

Ginny paced the office, trying to calm her breathing.

"Ginny?"

She vaguely heard Hermione call her name and Ginny reached out, hands clawing at the walls. She fought to grab onto something solid, but there was nothing for her to hold. Her breathing didn't slow and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. She felt the plush comfort of the carpet and she shut her eyes. "I just," she panted, "I need to ..."

And the world went completely dark.

* * *

She woke up in a silent room in St. Mungo's. She moved onto her side and swallowed. She made a face of disgust when she tasted something bitter on her tongue. Her eyes felt heavy and she was too fatigued to move anymore.

"I see ya finally woke up, lass," she heard from above her.

She proper her head up with her hands and gasped. "Oh, Circe," she breathed, cracking a tired grin. "Seamus Finnigan, what the hell are you doing here?"

He chuckled and plopped into the chair in front of her. "I owed Ron a favor," he joked, smiling widely. "Bit of a nasty attack ya had there."

"What happened?" she asked.

"Well, Hermione and Ron brought you in. You were unconscious and you weren't breathing. 'Mione said that you couldn't breathe in her office and collapsed to the floor," he informed her, reading his notes off a notepad he had in his pocket. "It also says here that your heartbeat became irregular for a few minutes after you started breathing again."

Ginny's blood ran cold. "What does that all mean?" she whispered.

"Gin, I diagnosed these symptoms as a panic attack."

"I had a panic attack?" she inquired in incredulity. "But ... I've never had one before. I never experienced anything like that in my life."

"Your brother's death was unforeseen, Gin. It's understandable," he consoled her, rubbing her forearms affectionately.

Her mind flashed back to what had happened in Hermione's office. She had seen Draco. She had spoken to him. Ginny shut her eyes. She didn't panic over Percy's death, but over the fact that the Minister of Magic was a man she once loved.

"Gin?"

She opened her eyes and the scene went away. She sighed. "Where is everyone?"

"I had to shuffle them home," he smirked, eyes laughing, "They made a ruckus in the hall and two of my male nurses were treated with bruises and black eyes."

Ginny snickered. "My family is so ridiculous."

"Ridiculous, but loving," he added, pinching her cheek. "I need to keep you overnight for observation, but they should be back in the morning to see you."

He headed for the door.

"Oh, and Gin?"

She glanced up at him.

"It's good to have you back."

She smiled.

* * *

"How was I supposed to know she was having a bloody panic attack?!" screeched Hermione, throwing her hands up in defeat. "You think I'm a fucking Seer?"

Ron glowered at her. "You should've realized that she needed help. What the hell happened before she stopped breathing?"

Hermione paused. "I don't know," she said quietly, not looking at him.

He knew she was lying. He pulled her to him roughly and hissed, "This is my sister. My brother is dead and I won't have her sick. _What happened_?"

"I came back and she didn't look too well," she replied, wincing as he gripped her tighter. She didn't pull away, however, for she knew he only did this out of anguish.

He let go and rubbed the developing bruise on her arm. "I'm sorry," he said gruffly.

"You need to go to your Mum. She's frantic," advised Hermione gently, grabbing her bag and heading for the fireplace.

"Where are you going?"

She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and turned to him as she situated herself above the soot. "I need to deliver some paperwork first, but I'll be back later tonight. Just keep your door unlocked."

"Will you tell Harry?"

Hermione nodded. "I'll ring him as soon as I'm done."

"_Home_!" she yelled, throwing the powder onto the ground.

Ron watched her vanish into dusty air.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I apologize for this extremely short chapter - but I'm trying to pace the story correctly. The chapters will most definitely grow - I'm working on that now. Everyone keeps wondering where Harry is & it's hilarious, but you shall see him in the later future.

Again, sorry the the short chapter, but I swear that they will get longer and bigger. It's been so long since I've written novel length stories, but once the semester is over, I can devote more time to really lengthening chapters.

I love you all 3

sydentherese[dot]com


	6. VI: Touch The Sky

**Chapter VI**

**Touch the Sky

* * *

**

"You didn't inform me of her return," he accused smoothly, flipping through the files he requested. He was pleased with her information.

"Not even _I_ anticipated it," Hermione replied, feeling the betrayal consume her body. She tried to shake away the creeping thoughts, but her attempts were feeble.

"Ellen Muir," he mused aloud. "The florist with the mouth?"

Hermione nodded. "Craig couldn't get a listen at what they were saying, but Ginny left abruptly and became sick outside." Each word out of her mouth was disloyalty. _Why was she doing this_? She thought to herself. She could stop now and be done.

"What of her condition?"

"Stable and well. Seamus Finnigan is taking expert care of her himself," she answered. Conversations such as the one she was having were a routine for her every week. Draco Malfoy was conventional with his investigating, if anything.

"You do know that she's in the hospital because of you," Hermione said aloud, not afraid.

His dark eyes glared daggers. "You're dismissed," he ordered swiftly, spinning a heel and striding to the oak doors.

"I never asked why you follow her and I never want to know. _But_," she bit out, "you need to stop this game that you're playing and leave her be." Hermione's voice was as cold as steel. "She is _not_ a pawn in this mess you call your life. I don't know what the _fuck_ you both had in the past, but it surely won't make it to this present. Ginny deserves more."

He froze at the door, breathing fiercely through his nostrils. He tapped the door with his wand twice and slithered out when they opened.

Hermione shivered in the drafty room. She had to see Ginny.

* * *

"Any gorgeous friends in Paris I should about?" He winked at her.

"I know a few models here and there. I could throw you some numbers if you're really interested," she offered, smiling. "You should really come, though, Seamus. You would love Paris. The wine is plentiful and the women are _lusty_," she taunted, biting her lip for affect.

His eyes widened. "I think I might move permanently," he announced happily.

Ginny roared with laughter, her stomach beginning to hurt. "You are an absolute trip, Healer Finnigan!"

He grinned mischievously. "You better watch out, Ginny Weasley. I'll be camping out in your bed in Paris and you won't have a _clue_."

She snorted. "At least someone will be keeping my bed warm," she said truthfully.

"Oh, Gin. You going through a dry season?"

She chucked a fat pillow at him. "You're a bloody git, you know that?"

Seamus grinned, leaning back into the chair and checking her vitals on the clipboard. "So far, so good," he announced happily.

"Do you know might cause a panic attack?" Ginny asked timidly.

He shrugged and placed the clipboard back into its slot. "It could be any number of things. Stress is the biggest reason for most. Any sudden news that might scare someone is also another cause." He looked at her. "Gin, panic attacks are normal during a time of mourning. You just need to take things slow and try not to worry so much," he counseled affectionately.

Ginny nodded and immediately changed the subject. "So, _Healer_ Finnigan," she joked gaily, "Why did you go into medicine?"

He laughed. "Everyone always asks me that," he told her, "People assumed that I was a bit of a slacker at Hogwarts-"

"Which you were," interjected Ginny, giggling.

"I'll admit it! I was a horrible study, but I wasn't an idiot. I got into medicine after my father introduced me to this Muggle college in the States. I never had a true knack for charms, but I was bloody well great at Potions," he boasted proudly, "So, I took a few courses, attended University, and decided to practice here."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it," he stressed joyfully. "I love the idea of being able to help others. I love spending time at the children's ward." His face then turned smug. "I also love the gorgeous single women that just throw themselves at me."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're unbelievable, Seamus."

He checked his watch and stood up. "Visiting hours start in about five minutes, which means the Weasley clan has descended upon St. Mungo's and are most likely badgering the poor guards." He suavely took her hand and placed a kiss on it. "Gin, darling, I'll be back with them and you'll be headed home."

"Seamus, have dinner with me tonight." It was more of a statement rather than a question.

He smirked at her. "See? What did I tell you about those gorgeous women?"

She laughed. "As friends, you prat."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he beamed. He left the room, but his dark head popped in again. "Actually, I wouldn't mind dating you. I do remember a certain vivacious redhead who snogged like a-"

She raised a hand to stop him. "All right. Let's keep this clean. Fetch my parents, please."

He chortled down the hospital corridors screaming, "Ginny Weasley snogs like a hungry beast!"

She covered her scarlet face in her hands and groaned. Taking a deep breath, she sat back into the mountain of pillows and gasped when she spotted an intruder at the door.

Stiff, Ginny stared deep into his slate eyes and swallowed. Did visiting hours already begin? How the hell did he get into the hospital without Seamus knowing?

Every question already had an answer.

_He was the Minister, you idiot_, she cursed herself silently.

She finally found her voice, even if it was unattractively raspy. "Hello."

She could've sworn she saw a faint smile on his lips, but her eyes may have been playing tricks on her. "How are you feeling?" he inquired smoothly, entering the room with all the grace a Malfoy possessed.

Ginny sunk into the pillows even further, aching for an escape. He was so tall and imperial in the unadorned hospital room. His robes were clean and impeccable, and his hair was perfectly in place. He was too extravagant - too _everything_.

"Quite well, thanks," she whispered softly, praying to the gods that her family would appear and kick his sorry arse out to the curb.

"Finnigan informed me that you suffered a panic attack."

His statement surprised her. Seamus had divulged her confidential condition? Why would he do such a thing? Surely he would request her permission before disclosing any sort of information.

She must've been too lost in her own thoughts when he added, "I've arranged for another Healer to escort you home."

She snapped her head up and retorted indignantly, "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don't need a Healer at my beck and call."

He seemed unaffected. He studied the room with dark eyes. "This is unacceptable," he mumbled to himself.

"I find it appropriate," Ginny quipped, looking away from him in disgust. She knew exactly what he meant. "There are others who are injured that deserve better rooms."

"You should be comfortable in a room suited for your condition," he said reasonably.

Ginny didn't care for his concern. "And you should be home with your _wife_," she snarled viciously.

His eyes met her in shock. He locked his jaw in irritation. "Is this your way of thanking me?"

She snorted bitterly. "I have nothing to thank you for."

He shook his head, seemingly amused. "I can recall a year when you thanked me ferociously-"

"Get out," she gritted through her teeth.

Before he could say anything, Molly came rushing into the room. "Ginny!" she cried, throwing her body full force onto her daughter.

Ron came in after her, his face murderous. "Bloody guards. Telling me to wait five minutes," he grumbled, stepping around his mother to see his sister.

"Mum, I'm fine," Ginny stressed, as her mother coddled her. "I'm _fine_!"

The rest of her family piled in, filling up the room and leaving no spot on the floor unoccupied.

"Ron, seriously," whined Ginny, as he checked her vitals on the clipboard.

"Seamus said you had a panic attack," he said hollowly, flipping through the papers.

Ginny wanted to strangle his overprotective neck. "Yes, I did, but I'm fine," she repeated, annoyed. She swatted away Charlie's hands. "Charlie, I'm all right!"

"Let me just check your pulse," he insisted.

Ginny growled. "Charlie," she warned.

"Minister!" acknowledged her father, moving aside his sons to shake Draco's hand. "Doing a quick sweep of the hospital?"

"Just ensuring that my Healers are doing an excellent job," he answered, strongly shaking her father's hand.

Ginny listened as they conversed. _He sounded so ... political_, she thought.

"And how is Mrs. Malfoy?"

Ginny froze at the sound of the new surname.

"She's doing quite well. She's gardening as we speak."

Feeling worse than she did the day before, Ginny grabbed Ron's elbow directly and said softly in his ear, "Let's go home." It wasn't soft enough, for the entire room paused in silence and began running amok in order to prepare her.

Ginny stared, helpless and humored, as Bill ran to get Seamus, Charlie packed her things, and Ron wrote a note to alert Hermione that she was headed home. She was well aware that they were insanely concerned due to the fact that they didn't want to lose another loved one. They couldn't lose her.

"Minister, you must join us for lunch today," Molly offered sweetly, holding Draco's hand warmly. "And please bring your wife. After all you've done, the least I could do is make you a proper meal."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Ginny felt another panic attack rise. Where had her breath gone? Why were her hands so cold? Her whole body soon became numb and she bit her lip, controlling her emotions and fending off the urge to cry. She gasped when a warm hand landed on her shoulder and she stared up at the brown eyes of Ron. He looked back down at her, eyes pitying her current state.

Ginny let out a shaky breath. There was something in his expression that she couldn't place. Was it sympathy? Was it distress? She was usually so perceptive when it came to Ron, but she found him so closed - so shelled now. He had perfected his poker face.

"Would you like to get changed before leaving?" he asked.

"No," she shook her head. "I just want to go. I just want to sleep in my own bed," she replied gently.

* * *

Ginny listened as the occupants in the yard roared with laughter. Her mum had invited almost everyone to lunch - including Luna, Neville, her entire family, and the Malfoys. Although she craved to see them, she feared she would suffer another attack after confirming that Draco and Parkinson were truly married. She chose not to believe it at the moment and seeing them together would only prove to pain her.

She turned on her side and gripped her worn sheets. Where had Ginevra Weasley gone? Where had her bravery run off to? If she were in France, she would skin him alive and feed him to the hungry models. But, at home, it was different. It was new territory, a new situation, and unique circumstances. She didn't have the support she used to have. Fred and George resented her, Bill feigned politeness around her, and Ron seemed to be stoic all the time. It was not the Burrow she remembered - it was not the family she remembered.

But there was always a nagging feel at the pit of her stomach. Percy left the house. Percy did what he wanted to do. He defied his family and voiced his own beliefs. She recalled how she had hated him - how disappointed she was in her brother. They disowned him then. They pretended he didn't exist then.

He came back. But he didn't apologize for what he had done. He braved the storm with his family and soon, their love was returned to him. Ginny held back a sob. Percy was headstrong, he was determined, but he loved them. He would do anything - anything to stress the affection he still held for his family.

At that very moment, Ginny flipped back her covers and threw on a white cotton dress. If Percy could face them, then so could she. If Percy could obtain their faith once more, then by God, she would as well.

_Even though he's dead_, Ginny thought thoughtfully, _he's still here to help.

* * *

_

**Author's Note:**

I'm still LOLing at the reviewer who stated that she/he didn't want to see Harry at all. I'm too lazy to check back & get the username, but I must agree! I used to HATE Harry - he was whiny & annoying. But I characterize him a bit differently - and as you can see with the story - I'm not particularly sticking to canon. It's fanfiction for a reason.

This chapter might have been short, too, but ugh, I could care less. I'm promising longer ones once the semester is over & done with. After May 10, I'm all yours.

Btw - stop with your complaints. If you don't like that I characterized Percy as a man with a heart, then stop reading. If you don't like how I did something or whatever, stop reading. It's one thing to constructively criticize, but if you just plain don't like it, then shove off.

sydentherese[dot]com -- do VISIT. It's my personal blog & website.

Lots of love.


	7. VII: Speak Out

**Chapter VII**

**Speak Out

* * *

**

"Ginny!" squealed Luna happily, throwing her slim, pale arms around her friend.

Ginny laughed and hugged her back. "Oh, Luna," she sighed, smiling. She pulled back and laughed again. "You haven't changed a bit. Still that gorgeous girl with a flair for fashion." She eyed Luna's apple earrings and cherry red jumpsuit. "Stunning," she whispered, grinning.

Luna blushed just as Neville came walking towards them. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. "Gods, you smell good," he mumbled.

Ginny snorted. "I smell like old socks," she retorted, touching his angled face. "You have lost _a lot_ of weight," she blurted loudly, examining him up and down.

"Well, I ended up playing professional Quidditch - which I'm quite good at," he boasted, smiling wide.

"I heard. I follow your matches," Ginny said proudly, "You are _fantastic_ on the pitch! Makes me wonder why you didn't play back at Hogwarts."

"I enjoyed pudding too much," he teased, leading her towards the table. He pulled her chair out for her.

Ginny sat down in-between Neville and Luna.

"You sure you don't want to rest, Gin?" Charlie asked, worried.

"I'm quite fine, Charlie," she reassured him.

"Eat up, sweetheart. You'll need your strength," advised her mother, passing over a large bowl of broccoli. "Ron, please pass your sister some of the desserts."

"What? Mum, why does Gin get to eat the desserts first?" whined Ron grumpily.

"Because she has had a very long night and deserves it," Molly answered, patting her son on the head. "You can have some dessert at the end of your meal." She spoke to him as if he were still ten and Ginny nine.

Ginny observed the occupants at the table and without thinking, asked aloud, "Where is Malfoy?"

"He had to pop over to bring Pansy, dear," her mother replied airily.

Ginny nodded and began to eat her food.

"I never got a chance to say I was sorry, Gin," Neville said softly from beside her. "Percy was a great bloke."

"Thank you, Nev," she whispered, touching his thigh lightly. "I really appreciate it."

"Blast," muttered Luna, "I completely forgot to set free the butterwings. Now they're going to muck up my entire plan!"

Ginny giggled. "What are butterwings?"

"They're small insects that make butter," Luna responded obviously. She sighed dreamily. "They're so gorgeous in the sunlight, Gin. I must show you one of these days. Are you planning to stay long?"

She thought of Percy again and smiled wistfully. "Yes. I'm planning on purchasing a flat in London to be closer to everyone," she said stridently.

Everyone looked up from their food, but Molly was the first to speak. "Oh, Gin are you really?" she breathed happily, tears in her eyes.

"Of course, Mum. And I'll need you to help with the decorating. You know I was always horrible with that," she joked, laughing.

"It's good to hear, Gin," her dad stated, beaming, "Very good to hear."

"What of your life in France?" Fred inquired, his voice laced with malice.

"I'll still have it. But I want my life here as well," she said tenderly, gazing at him with sad eyes.

Fred said nothing, but his counterpart snapped, "Took you long enough."

"I know," Ginny confessed. "But I know it now and that's what counts."

The aura at the table changed instantly and Ginny shivered when she felt a soft breeze flow by. She smiled faintly. She knew he was there with her.

"Have you decided yet on what you'll do about your column in Paris?" Luna inquired, sipping her soup and helping herself to a load of bread.

Ginny shrugged. "I'll probably continue some of my pieces here for now and when that's all done, I guess I'll have to start over and find another position here," she answered thoughtfully, thinking of her editor, Dartanian.

"I suppose you'll be missed dearly," sighed Luna, leaning back into the wicker chair. "Your friends will be terribly sad."

"Speaking of friends, Seamus tells me you've got some leggy models in mind for him. Leaving me out of the loop, are you, Gin?" Neville teased, wriggling his eyebrows. "I'd love a brainless blond."

"Now, Neville," Molly reprimanded, shaking a finger at him, "No talk of such _relations_ are allowed at this table. This is a formal lunch, not a night out at the pub."

"But, Mrs. Weasley, you're always pushing me to get married," he persisted, pouting for an effect. "Why can't I simply marry a gorgeous French model?"

"Oh, _believe_ me," interrupted Ginny, shaking her head, "You do _not_ want a model. They're catty and insecure and _ridiculous_! I was given the evil eye the entire time I ate my sandwich at the Ray Olive photo shoot. All they did was piss and moan about the invisible fat on their thighs."

"God, they must be fantastic," breathed Neville, eyes wondering to the sky. He tilted his head in contemplation. "So beautiful," he mumbled.

"Models are shite," commented Ron, his mouth still full. "They're nasty little bints who make a living by _walking_."

"No cussing!" scolded Molly, smacking Ron on the arm.

He grimaced in pain. "Mum!"

"Some models are lovely," chimed in Charlie, mediating the light argument. "I wouldn't mind dating an intelligent and striking woman."

"Agreed!" Bill stated joyfully, grinning.

Molly rolled her eyes. "I want _sweet_ and _nice_ ladies for my sons. They need to be neat and generous. They should also have wonderful manners at the dinner table." She eyed Ron's beastly eating. "Unlike _some_."

"I would rather a woman with a sense of humor for my boys!" exclaimed Arthur, smiling wistfully. "A girl with some funny jokes can always win my heart."

"Is that how Mum won your heart?" Ginny asked.

Arthur smiled affectionately at his wife and replied, "Molly won me over with those gorgeous eyes."

Ron made a face of disgust and muttered resentfully, "_Parents_!"

"Oh, Mrs. Weasley, how happy you two must have been," said Luna longingly.

"How happy we still _are_," she corrected proudly.

Ginny watched the tender exchange between her parents and wished to find that kind of unwavering love and passion. If her parents found her each other, then she could definitely find her companion. Just as the word love popped into her head, Ginny thought of him again. She frowned. Why did she always think of him at the sweetest situations? Her mind hardly gave her any rest when it came to him. She needed a distraction.

Elbowing Neville, she smirked. "Game of catch the snitch?" she suggested.

Neville smirked. "You'll never win."

"We'll see about that," she said arrogantly, standing up. She let out her hand. "Shall we, Mr. Longbottom?"

He stood up and towered over her. "Why, Miss Weasley, I would be honored."

"Where are you two off to?" Ron yelled, spitting out the lemon chicken he was eating. "If you're off to snog, I'll fucking kill you, Longbottom."

"_Ronald_!" snapped Molly.

Ginny laughed infectiously. "Oh, yes, Ron. Neville is off to snog me _senseless_ in the broom shed."

"Are you trying to seduce me, Miss Weasley?" he teased, in mock surprise. "Why, here I thought you were an innocent little thing ..." Neville saw the murderous look on Ron's face and quickly clarified, "We're going to play a game of catch the snitch."

Ron grinned conceitedly, threw his napkin onto the table, and stood up as well. "You two are about to get your arses kicked," he informed them.

"It's a challenge then," her eyes lit up with a playful glow. "Whoever wins gets ..." She bit her lip in contemplation.

"Gets to have the losers as her slaves!" Luna finished for her, getting up from her seat excitedly. "Oh, this will be fun! You are all going down," she said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"You're not playing without me," chirped a breathless Hermione, who just ran out onto the yard. "Harry's been teaching me a thing or two and I'm positively sure that I'll end up victorious."

Ron stared at her seriously. "Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be here hours ago."

"I got caught up," she said glibly, waving a hand. She raised an eyebrow. "So, are we playing?"

"Let's do this."

* * *

Ginny smacked away Ron's hands and growled, "I can bloody fly on my own, Ron. Quit pestering me!"

He scoffed. "You're wearing a piece of _cloth_," he enunciated the last word, "The least you could do is throw on a ruddy robe."

"I think she looks great," Neville said, earning a glare from Ron, "And those legs!"

"Shut it, Longbottom, or I'll shut it for you," he sneered, raising a fist.

Luna sighed and flew up into the air. "Boys will be boys," she sang.

Hermione zoomed up and called out to Bill, "Let out the snitch when I count to three!"

Pushing Ron back onto his broom, Ginny extended into the air and proceeded to chase Neville around the yard. "I'll kick your arse, Longbottom!" she bellowed jokingly, pinching him lightly when she caught up with him.

She ceased with her games when her eyes fell back onto the dining table. Her mother and father had gotten up to greet the two regal guests who had just arrived. Ginny stared breathlessly as a gorgeous Pansy Parkinson - _Malfoy_, she corrected masochistically in her head - welcomed a kiss on the cheek from her mother.

"Ginny!" she heard vaguely.

Whether it was the fact that she was obviously staring or that her name was being called, Draco Malfoy suddenly looked up and met her eyes. The distance was too far to distinguish exactly what he was feeling, but Ginny shuddered and turned her head, breaking the connection.

Neville glided down to her. "I lost you for a second. Everything all right?"

"Of course," she said, still a bit out of breath. "I'm fine."

"Looks like the prized philanthropist has descended," Neville stated, looking down at the couple with hard eyes.

Ginny looked at him inquiringly. "What's the matter? I thought everyone adored the new Minister."

Neville scoffed. "The new Minister was a fucking git before his advisors used the media to his advantage. It took them a whole year's worth of planning to get that halo above the prat's head."

"A year of planning?" Ginny asked dumbly.

"Yeah, it was our seventh year - was your sixth. He spent months going through tactics on how to woo the Wizarding world. It was his goal all along - become the esteemed politician with the trophy wife and perfect family," Neville explained, running a hand through his hair.

"How do you know all of this?"

"Luna wrote a feature on him in the Daily Prophet," he responded, "It nearly filled the entire newspaper. I think that's what won him the Ministry. He vows that the article is truth."

"Do you believe it is?"

Neville shrugged carelessly. "Who knows and who cares? He's Minister now and that's all that counts apparently. There aren't enough galleons in the world to kick him off that ship."

Ginny looked down at them again and found the Malfoys in deep conversation with her parents. It meant so much to him, thought Ginny, being Minister. She had left to run away from her past and he stayed to pursue his dream. That was what he craved for all along - to procure the highest status possible with a suitable wife. Ginny tried to rid her mind of the thoughts, but she couldn't. While she hid in France like a coward, he abandoned all thoughts of her and accomplished his true objective.

"One."

Ginny gripped her broom.

"Two."

She leaned in closer to her hands.

"_Three_!"

Whizzing forward to trail Neville, Luna, and Hermione, Ginny's ambition now was to first, catch that damn snitch, and last, rebuild the life she thoughtlessly left behind.

* * *

Hermione declined from the sky like a goddess holding her crown. She grinned arrogantly as the other players landed as well, shock clearly written all over their faces. She propped a hand on her hip and said silkily, "I told you Harry taught me a thing or two."

Ron sputtered uncontrollably. "But - you - I - you _suck_ at Quidditch!" he finally managed to bluster.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Apparently not, seeing as I cleaned the entire yard with your arse," she retorted smartly.

Ginny snorted, but stopped, when Ron turned around and shot her a menacing glare. "What?" she asked innocently, "She used our arses, too."

"And she used them well," said Luna, impressed.

"_So_," Hermione grinned, "What were the terms again?"

The foursome groaned.

"Ah, yes, I do believe you are my _servants_," she answered the question herself, reveling in their disdain.

Ron sullenly stalked back to the table, leaving the four of them to laugh at his loss. "He's such a sore loser," Ginny commented, throwing her broom over her shoulder and following her brother.

"Ah, but we're all losers," Luna cut in, tying her hair up into a very high bun. "Hermione is the only victor!"

"Agreed," said Neville, slithering his arm around Hermione's shoulders. "I find the win extremely attractive."

Hermione laughed at his antics. "Oh, Neville, what happened to the shy, baby-faced boy we all knew and love?"

"He grew up and transformed into a tantalizing man," he replied, eyes bright with mirth.

Rolling her eyes at his sudden burst of conceit, Ginny dropped the heavy broom on the heavy ground, marched up to the table, and dipped her finger in the chocolate pudding. She licked it off her hands and turned when she heard a click. She jumped in shock when she found Seamus snapping shots of her with his Muggle camera. She snorted and whacked him on the arm. "What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting tonight!"

"Your mum invited me," he explained, leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. "And I figured I'd come since we're going to be spending the night out anyway."

Ron intervened. "Dinner? You and Finnigan? Sounds fun. I'll join you."

"Where are you off to?" Luna asked, undoing a button on her jumpsuit.

"I was thinking we'd stop by this jazz lounge. A little music and wine?" suggested Seamus.

"Excuse me!" yelled Molly shrilly. "I do believe you have yet to greet our guests." She signaled to the imperial couple.

Luna waved dreamily, Neville threw them a curt nod, Ron grumbled something incoherent, Hermione smiled kindly, Seamus snapped a shot, and Ginny continued to eat her pudding.

Molly sighed dramatically. "Children," she muttered.

"Wine? I'm up for wine," Hermione stated.

"A drunk Hermione and Ginny? I'm up for that," said Neville, smirking.

Ron pinned him with a vicious look.

"Are you speaking of Oh Lounge?"

All eyes turned to the dark-haired beauty seated beside her blonde husband. She waited patiently for an answer.

Seamus provided it. "Yes, have you ever been?" he asked conversationally.

"I co-own the establishment."

_Figures_, Ginny thought snidely.

"There's also another location in Paris. Miss Weasley, have you ever been?" she directed the question to Ginny.

The redhead contemplated Apparating right then and there, but her will wouldn't allow it. She faced the woman and smiled gracefully. "I've never had the pleasure. I was busy with my writing, so I only visited where I was assigned," she replied, so pleased with her light tone. She tried to pretend that Draco Malfoy wasn't present, but even if she wasn't looking directly at him, she felt his attendance suffocating her.

"You should stop by. I'll have the manager reserve a section just for you," said Pansy humbly, her manicured hand resting on her husband's.

Ginny's smile faltered but she whispered, "That's nice of you."

Hermione sensed the tension and interjected, "So, we're all going to Oh Lounge tonight?"

"Maybe we should stay home," Ginny changed her mind, mind back to Percy, "we still have a lot to do."

"Have a night out with everyone, Gin," Arthur proposed, "It'll be good for you to spend some time with them."

She walked over to her father and sat beside him. Looking into his eyes, she asked quietly, "Are you sure? I can always just stay. I would be happy to stay."

"Go and have fun. Percy would've wanted you to." He tilted his chin towards the Malfoys. "I'm sure the Minister and his lovely wife would love to go as well. Make a night of it." He leaned forward and whispered playfully, "You only get to live once."

* * *

"Bring the fucking _Minister_ and his perfect _wife_," spat Ginny, rummaging through her Louis Vuitton suitcase for an appropriate outfit for the night. She growled in horror when she realized that she had absolutely nothing to wear. Singling out a Lotus Love dress, Ginny clumsily tripped over the rest of her clothing to get to her mirror. She held the dress up against her body and shook her head furiously. "So wrong," she mumbled, chucking the dress onto the bed.

She fished through her suitcase once more and nearly cried in joy when she discovered one of her first designer dresses. "Oh, Yuki Shane," she praised, holding the slip to her chest. "You are a life saver!"

She was in the process of sliding it on when Hermione tumbled into the room, her hair in disarray and her eyes frantic. "I heard screaming!" she declared, holding her wand. "Are you all right?" Her eyes widened when she spotted the floor. "Did a _bomb_ explode in here?!"

Ginny buttoned up the indecent garb and took a deep breath. "Everything is fine. I'm just ... weighing my options is all," she explained, her mind elsewhere. She stalked over to the vanity and sat down. "How is your primping going?"

"Horrid," Hermione huffed, adjusting her too-tight bra. "I checked out Oh Lounge to get an idea of what kind of restaurant it is. Turns out, the place is a fucking pool of socialites and paparazzi," she sneered, regretting her invitation. "The last time I had a pap shot was when I interviewed Daniel King from the States. The photo made me look like an old hag!" She shook her head and collapsed on the bed. "Photographers are pond scum."

"Don't worry," Ginny said airily. "Just keep your head low and don't pay attention. The best shots are the ones where you look as if you don't care."

"You faced a lot of paparazzi in France?"

"Many," said Ginny miserably. "They were everywhere - on the ground, in the bushes, hiding out in taxis!"

"Perverts," Hermione breathed harshly.

Ginny spun around in her chair. "Hey, 'Mione ..."

"Yeah?"

"If I asked you for a favor at the lounge, would you oblige me?" she asked, a bit embarrassed.

"Of course!" Hermione answered immediately, staring at her friend intently. "Why? What's the matter?"

Ginny shrugged and faced the mirror again. "Just asking."

Hermione sensed it was more than just a simple question, but she kept quiet. Ginny would confide in her in time. Sighing, Hermione stood up and announced, "I'll be getting ready in Ron's room. He promised he'd help me get rid of my blemishes."

"You don't have any blemishes!" Ginny called out just as Hermione shut the door. "Crazy girl," she muttered.

_Oh, this was going to be interesting.

* * *

_

**Author's Note:**

This took longer to get ready than I expected. Some parts haven't been beta'd, but for the parts that I have, I thank my lovely beta, _Emily_! My pride and joy over here. She deals with me when I'm being an absolute fart & she's just darling!

Story is coming slower than I thought - but that's only because finals are coming up, and I haven't the time to really write much. I'm trying to stretch it out as much as possible, because it's not something that can be finished right away. I really need to outline properly, too, considering I nearly forget what happens in my stories. Yikes.

So, review ;) So far, I've enjoyed your reviews, even if some are awkward. I remember getting a review like, "Finish this story soon!" I just find those strange. It's hard to finish a story that needs so much time to develop well. I'm writing this for you guys mostly. So I want it to be entertaining and heartbreaking and fantastic. So that should take some time.

Love you lots & hope you're having a wonderful wonderful week.

sydentherese[dot]com


	8. VIII: So Wrong

**Chapter VIII**

**So Wrong**

* * *

It was easier to face the media in Paris. Her background was a mystery and her private life was anything but a scandal. Ginny strutted through the streets of France with her shoulders back and her head held high. But, in England, she thought bitterly, it was so much different.

They opted to Apparate outside of Muggle London and then walk the few blocks to get to Oh Lounge. Ginny found it shocking that the Malfoys would own a Muggle establishment, but then again, it resulted in their favor.

As they walked and laughed, she didn't expect to see a gaggle of reporters and photographers rushing to greet them. Ron and Seamus immediately stepped forward to cover the girls, and Neville trailed behind them like a man on a mission. At first, Ginny found the situation interesting and hilarious, but as the questions persisted, Ginny felt like she was being attacked.

"Miss Weasley! Miss Weasley!" one of the photographers jeered, giving her a toothy grin. "How was your stint in Paris? Any French babies we should know about?"

Ginny disregarded the insult and kept walking, blinking furiously as the blinding lights surrounded her. She focused on placing one foot before the other.

"Is it true you slept with the editor of _Amour_ to get your top spot?"

"How are you feeling after the loss of your brother?"

"Any words for the young girls out there who want to pursue a career in journalism?"

"You stay the fuck away from her," hissed Ron viciously, pushing aside an overly enthusiastic reporter who held his camera low to get an up-skirt shot of Hermione.

Ginny mentally leapt in joy when she spotted the lounge just across the street. She moved with the crowd and thanked the gods for Seamus, Ron, and Neville. They surrounded them like bodyguards and she couldn't have been more grateful.

Just as she took a step onto the curb, another question caused her to freeze.

"How does it feel to be absent for two years and then come back with one less family member?"

She could feel Ron tugging at her arm, but she shoved him off and faced the reporter. The lights were flashing in her eyes, though she still managed to glare directly at the smug wannabe journalist before her. Time slowed mockingly. To hear those words from her family was expected – to hear them from her close friends was acceptable – but to hear those words seep from the lips of a shady correspondent – it was more than she could bear. Without thinking twice, Ginny lifted a hand and smacked him soundly on the face.

She listened as the clicks progressed into a frenzy.

"Ginny!" gasped an outraged Hermione, pulling her away from the scene.

Breathing harshly, Ginny allowed her friends to haul her into the lounge unscathed. She could hear them speaking, but she had no idea what was being said. All that registered in her mind was her stinging hand, her foggy vision, and the fact that she could hardly breathe.

"He deserved it!"

"Of course he did, but that didn't mean that she had to _hit_ him!"

"The bloody prat shouldn't be asking questions like that."

"He's a fucking _reporter_! It's what they do."

"What are we going to do now? That little incident will be splashed all over the Daily Prophet come tomorrow morning!"

"What's done is done. There's nothing we can do now."

"I could possibly try and stop the story."

"Really? And at what cost? That man will print it without _one_ thought."

The entire conversation was interrupted by a small cough. They all turned to Ginny.

She looked up at them, acting as if the entire situation hadn't occurred and muttered, "I'm getting a drink."

They stared as she sauntered towards the bar, oblivious to the engrossed eyes studying her barely clad body.

"She shouldn't have worn that bloody dress," Ron grumbled angrily.

"I _love_ that bloody dress," Seamus and Neville both said at the same time.

"Reservation?" piped an obnoxious voice, eying them with distaste.

Hermione glowered at her and said icily, "We're meeting Pansy Malfoy."

The woman looked surprised. "Right this way," she practically breathed.

"I should probably go get Gin." Ron watched as she ordered another drink.

Hermione gripped his arm and forced him to follow. "She's an adult," she hissed, "Let her be."

She led them towards a velvet drape and Luna stared at it, perplexed. "Why is there a curtain in the middle of the restaurant?" she asked lightly, running a ringer down the smooth fabric. "Feels quite nice." She jumped when the hostess pulled it back violently to reveal a dim room.

"Whoa," Neville mumbled, staring at the plush digs with appraisal.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy are seated in the VIP area. Their private corner booth is just over there," she pointed to the humungous semi-circle, already beginning to leave, "Enjoy your stay at Oh Lounge."

Seamus whistled in approval. "Never been in this section of the lounge before."

"I should _really_ get Ginny," Ron urged. He yelped when Hermione pushed him towards the booth. "Stop _it_!" he whined.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Quit being a child and leave her alone. She needs time to wallow. I'll check up on her in a few minutes, you prissy girl."

They approached the also velvet booth and greeted the waiting Malfoys. Hermione sat down first, feeling comfortable after researching for them for months. "The lounge is beautiful, Pansy," she gushed kindly, scooting over for Ron.

The brunette smiled. "Thank you, Hermione. I'm rather fond of it myself."

Ron said nothing and leaned back into the sofa. He winced when Hermione jabbed him in the ribs. "Quite gorgeous," he rasped, holding the wounded spot.

Luna sighed pensively and announced, "What great aura of sexual fantasy and expensive liqueur!"

Neville snorted, amused, as he sat next to a dazed Luna. "Might want to keep those thoughts to yourself, love," he said to her, grinning.

"Did Miss Weasley not join you?" Pansy inquired, motioning for the waiter to bring over another bottle of wine. "I was sure she would enjoy the jazz trio we have booked for tonight."

"Actually," Seamus replied, not sitting. "I should go check on her. She's at the bar."

Hermione placed an open palm on Ron's chest and shook her head when he made a move to stand. "No," she said plainly.

He griped unintelligibly, obviously put-off.

"How are you Minister?" Luna questioned, irked that he still hadn't spoken a word to them.

"I'm well," he answered frankly.

Neville took a deep breath and tried to find something else to converse about. "How long have you owned this restaurant? Seems it's becoming quite popular."

"It's only been a few months, but a lot of work needed to be done. I'm glad it's taken off. It really is a great investment," she replied politely, sipping her Martini.

Neville cleared his throat as the tension at the table grew. Luna continued to sigh at the splendor of the room, irritating a morose Ron to no end. Hermione smiled, noticing the absolute awkwardness. Time had passed, but some old school rivalries never die.

Another bottle of wine arrived and they immediately perked up.

_So it's going to be _that_ kind of night_, thought Hermione, staring as Luna poured herself a very full glass.

* * *

"Slow down there, lass!" Seamus laughed, sitting at the stool beside the redheaded beauty. "Don't wanna watch the band sloshed, do ya?"

Ginny chugged the last of her Pink Lady and shrugged. "What does it matter?" she slurred, waving a flimsy hand about his head. "My life is over."

He eyed the numerous empty glasses on the bar and held her steady. _Shite_, he thought, _she drank herself into a fucking fog_. "Come on, Gin. I think you might want to sit at the booth. S'more comfortable," he suggested sweetly, aware that drunks tended to be a bit defensive.

"No!" she chirped happily, hiccupping. She sniggered. "'Scuse me!"

"Fuck," he mumbled. "Take these away, please," he ordered to the amused bartender. "And stop serving her bloody drinks."

"_Bloody Mary_!" she exclaimed in excitement. "I haven't had a Bloody Mary!"

"Gin," he said firmly. She flapped her arms around to catch the bartender's attention. "Gin!" he repeated more loudly.

She swayed towards him and whispered, "Yes, sir?"

"Let's get back. You need some rest."

She snorted and muttered, "Why? My brother's dead. My family hates me. Everyone thinks I'm this conceited socialite. I don't need to rest. I need to get away."

"You went away once," he told her quietly, "And look what that caused you."

She smiled bitterly. "I ran away for my own reasons. Now … I can see I don't fit in here anymore. Everyone has moved on without me." She turned away, reluctant, and then she rasped throatily, "He has the life I thought we'd share. I was so naïve to think he would choose me."

Confused, Seamus touched a hand to her arm. "Who are ya talking about, love?"

She began to sob. "I'm so pathetic."

"You're not pathetic," Seamus cajoled.

"I'd like another," slurred Ginny, raising a finger to the bartender. He stared blankly at her.

"I think you might need to go home," he recommended, hopping off the chair and swiveling her stool. He clutched onto both her arms and gently pulled her to him. She giggled and fell into his hard chest.

"Let's dance!" she stated cheerfully, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'd love to dance with you."

He grimaced when he smelled the alcohol on her breath. Shaking his head, he supported all her weight on his left side and dragged her through the main part of the restaurant. Whispers erupted, but Ginny was too focused on Seamus' suit jacket to even notice. "Look! There's a bit of green," she told him.

Reaching the lobby, he squeaked when he collided with Ron. "Fuck!" he cursed, losing his balance and nearly dropping Ginny.

Eyes wide, Ron assessed with situation and immediately grabbed her to him. "Seamus, what the fuck?" he spat, trying to hold his thrashing sister.

"I bloody found her like this!" Seamus snapped.

"Ronald, really, she will be just –" Hermione stopped short and ogled at the now limp Ginny in Ron and Seamus' arms. "Oh, shite."

"_Hermyyyyyy_," sang Ginny, giggling insanely. "I love you."

"I'm taking her home," Ron stated, heaving her up. "The fucking snakes outside will have a field day with this."

Hermione paled. "You won't be able to take her home," she realized.

"What? Of course I will!" he bristled.

She pinned him with a look of fear. "The entire restaurant in surrounded with paparazzi. This is _Muggle_ London," she whispered. "You can't Apparate here in the lounge!"

Ginny laughed maniacally. "To the bat mobile!"

Seamus smacked a head to his forehead. "This is not good."

* * *

Summer is here and I've been slacking off already! Sorry for this very late installment - the rest of the chapters are actually written up, so hopefully, I can finish this before summer ends! I will try my best to do so. I'll need a little help :) So do review and tell me what you think?

Lots of love.

Follow me on twitter: sydentherese

Follow my webpage: sydentherese[dot]com


	9. VIIII: Take A Chance

**Chapter VIIII**

**Take a Chance**

Hermione's eyes lit up. "We could take her to the booth and have her rest up as the band plays!" she suggested, grimacing as Ginny dry heaved.

"And have the Minister and his wife see her in this state?" Seamus asked aghast. "She'll surely retch right on the table!"

"Come on," stated Hermione firmly, taking Seamus' spot and holding Ginny up. "There's nothing else we can do. She really needs to sleep it off."

They shuffled over to the V.I.P section once more, Ginny struggling to break free of their grasps. She snickered mercilessly when she spied Neville and Luna at the booth. "My friends!" she announced to the entire room.

"Oh, my God," whispered Luna, hand to her mouth. She prepared the booth quickly, already aware of the unanticipated situation. "Neville, pass me your suit jacket," she commanded, moving aside all their belongings to make room. Neville handed her the clothing and she folded it into a pillow at the edge of the sofa.

Just as they entered the vicinity, Luna helped Hermione and Ron gently place Ginny on the plush couch. Ginny fell asleep almost immediately.

Neville looked to Seamus. "What the bloody fuck?"

"I found her like that!" Seamus repeated, red in the face. "You think I shoved those drinks down her throat?!"

"For Christ's sake, she's fucking snoring!" hissed Neville, watching Ginny toss and turn.

"I wish I could provide some sort of potion, but we're strict here when it comes to Wizard and Muggle boundaries," Pansy stated, standing up from her side of the booth and sitting beside Ron. "She'll just have to sleep for now."

Ron tensely shifted away from her.

Pansy acknowledged the action, but she ignored it. "We have a room upstairs where she could stay for now. After a few hours, she should be just fine," she recommended, taking off her shrug and draping it over Ginny. She turned to her husband. "Draco, darling, do you mind taking her?"

Something in his eyes said he didn't wish to do such a deed, but he stood up anyway.

Ron interjected. "I could take her," he declared, getting up as well. He blocked Malfoy's view of his slumbering sister. "The Minister needn't worry himself."

Hermione touched a gentle hand to Ron. "Let them help," she said softly.

Sighing in exhaustion, Ron nodded and lifted his sister into his arms. Neville and Seamus made a move to help, but Malfoy had already begun leading Ron into a backroom with a spiral staircase. He stopped suddenly.

"My sister may be thin, Malfoy, but I can't hold her forever," Ron snarled.

"I know my wife informed you of some boundaries bollocks, but you can Apparate in here without any problems," he stated, still as formal as ever.

Ron strained to speak, but he managed to say, "I left my wand back at the booth."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and let out his arms. "Give her here. I'll Apparate her back to the Burrow."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, right," he choked, leaning against a wall.

"Fine. You can stand there and hold your heavy sister until I slowly retrieve your wand for you." He smirked.

Ron let out a raspy puff of breath and handed his sister over. Malfoy and Ginny both disappeared instantly. Breathing deeply, Ron stood still and promptly regretted his decision.

* * *

Ginny awoke to the faint sounds of fire crackling. Her tight dress constricted her torso, causing her to breathe erratically. She rolled over with a groan and somehow maneuvered her way onto her stomach. It was hot and foggy and she strained to breathe. She unbuttoned the back of her dress and sighed when she began to inhale freely. Propping herself up, she groggily opened her eyes. She spotted the silk black sheets underneath her and she felt herself being pulled into the past.

The silk sheets. The warmth of the fire. Her lover lazily sitting by the window as she slept soundly.

It was the surreptitious trysts in Hogwarts all over again.

Ginny blinked and quickly sat up, her mind swirling with with memories of their kisses, their cuddles, and their heavy gropes. She was back in his private room again – she was back in the hidden alcoves of the corridors – she was back to sneaking into the broom shed after hours.

It seemed so safe.

"Ginevra?"

She shrieked and spun around on the duvet. Her eyes scanned the man before her and she sighed deeply. He looked the same: platinum streaks of neat hair, calculating silver eyes, and that same gentle, mocking sneer.

The room was an exact replica of his Head Boy room at Hogwarts. The drapes were the same dark velvet and the furniture was expensive and antique.

Had she been taken back in time? Was her life going to start over? Did she have the chance to begin again?

Her mouth opened. "Did I dream it?" Her voice was a raspy whisper, but the effect it had on him was extreme.

His eyes grew sad and he shook his head slowly.

Ginny's shoulders dropped and her heart felt heavy. She fell back onto the bed and squeezed her eyes shut. Percy was still dead. Draco was a happily married Minister. And she was still the same selfish Ginny.

Without hesitation, she fell into another slumber.

* * *

She woke up many hours later.

Ginny berated herself aloud for drinking. Her head was pounding terribly and she smelled the excessive amount of alcohol all over her clothes and breath. She could not recall precisely what had happened, but from the state of her body, it had to have been a lot.

It took her ten whole minutes to stand up, and when she finally did, she slipped out of her designer dress and yawned. She needed a shower. And very strong hangover potion.

She turned and yelped.

Draco Malfoy was standing in the room – lips curled in an amused smirk. His eyes were swimming with emotions, but Ginny never knew what they were. And she was sure she never wanted to know.

Blushing furiously, she managed to hiss, "What are you _doing_ here?"

His smirk widened. "It is _my_ manor."

She felt like she had been struck by lightning. She glanced around the room and swallowed nervously. This wasn't the Burrow. And this was most definitely not her bedroom. Ginny paled visibly. "I guess …" she started, bending down to pick up her dress. She wrapped it around her like a blanket and refused to meet his eyes. "What the fuck _happened_?" she blurted out. She shivered in her underwear and tried not to blush like an ashamed harlot.

"You were sloshed," he explained, swiftly untying his robe and throwing it over his desk chair. "I took you here in fear that your mother might castrate me for bringing her daughter home unconscious." His words were light and friendly, but Ginny only felt gauche and mortified.

"I need to go," she said suddenly, frantically searching the room for her pocketbook. She fished through the silken sheets of the bed.

"Your belongings are not with you," he said from his desk.

She faced him and found him scribbling on a piece of paper.

"They are most likely with your brother."

His cool voice aggravated her. "You had _no_ right to bring me here," she said icily. "Either you inform me of a way to get home or I'll wander this manor trying to figure out how."

"It is late and you are aggravated. I suggest you sleep it off until morning. I will return you to your brother then," he informed her formally, whistling. Just then, a gorgeous hawk flew through the window and perched itself on his desk. Draco attached the now rolled up parchment to its leg and sent him off.

Ginny stared dumbly. "You're out of your mind if you think I'm going to stay here," she blustered nervously. What time was it? Had she honestly slept that long?

"Then I must be out of my mind," he retorted coolly, turning to face her. He looked her up and down and his eyes darkened instantly. "You should probably put your dress on. My restraint only goes so far."

She tightened the garment around her. "I need to leave," she stressed slowly, hoping the enunciation of each word would emphasize the gravity of the situation. "There are arrangements," she paused, thinking of her family, "That must be made."

"I just notified your brother of your condition. I'm sure your family will understand." He stood up and dusted off his black slacks. Without taking another look at her, he headed for the door, but said before leaving, "I will wake you in the morning."

"Draco."

It was the first time she uttered his name.

He stiffened at the door and waited with bated breath.

"What of your wife?" she asked softly, but her tone suggested otherwise. There was no sweetness in her words, but malice – pure, unadulterated malice.

"Visiting a friend," he answered neutrally, without turning around.

"Are you happy?" Ginny croaked, tears forming in her doe eyes. She gripped the slip until her knuckles went white.

He spun around and stared blankly. "Yes."

She nodded, the reply piercing achingly at her heart. She had heard from everyone that this was the life he had wanted, but to hear it from him was the assurance she needed. "I'm glad," she whispered truthfully.

She opened her mouth to offer a very late congratulation on their nuptials, but was cut off deftly when Draco stalked towards her. She inhaled sharply when she felt his breath on her face. _Oh, God_, she thought, quavering at their close proximity.

"I remember everything," he admitted quietly, trailing a finger down her red cheek. "I remember the way your body reacted to my touches. I remember passing you secret notes in the corridors." His face was void of expression, but the sheer pain in his voice wrapped around her like a suffocating vine. "I remember that ridiculous dress you wore to the ball. I will _never_ forgive Finnigan for dancing with you that night." His hand landed on her chin and he caressed her bottom lip with his thumb. He coaxed her mouth open and he leaned down. "I remember when you fell in love with me."

"Don't," she rasped, jerking away. She shook her head viciously. "Don't do this." Her breath was harsh, but her words held a strong power over him.

He stood perfectly still. "Do you remember?" It sounded like a question, but coming from his lips, Ginny knew it was a statement.

Of course she remembered. How could she forget? It had been the very reason she left her life in such a hurried mess. But, even though, deep down inside her heart, she recalled every drugging kiss and stolen smile, she could never indulge in those memories. Ginny changed the subject. "How does it feel to be the Minister?" Her voice was light and she was extremely pleased with her politeness. If she was to live her life in England again, then she would need to become an acquaintance.

Not replying, he summoned a robe with his wandless hand and handed it to her. "I've arranged a late dinner in the dining hall. One of the house-elves will escort you there after you've gotten ready."

"What?" she asked, perplexed. "Dinner? I'd actually rather just go home and-"

Her sentence was cut off with the slamming of the door.

How long had she slept? Could she have possibly been asleep for an entire day? How much did she have to drink? _Ron must be so worried_, she wondered. _My family is going to kill me_, she added. She stared at the closed door and huffed. He always seemed to get his way.

* * *

It seemed like a castle, Ginny thought, walking through the manor. The drapes were rich with gold and the moldings on the walls were intricate with design. Every step she took was like entering a completely different world – a world that she didn't and would never belong in.

She shifted in the black dress she was forced to wear. Her Yuki Shane slip was soiled with her drool and the alcohol. There was no way she was going to wear it until it was dry-cleaned. The clothing Draco had left her smelled faintly of him, but somehow, she knew they belonged to his wife. The style was classic and sophisticated – something Ginny could never pull off.

_You could leave right now_, she told herself. _You could find a Floo and get the fuck out of here_.

But a part of Ginny wanted to stay – to _know_ – to find out why he had left her so long ago. She wanted to discover all his secrets. But, Ginny's shoulder dropped shamefully, she also wanted to stay to be close to him – to feel his presence next to her again. Years of nightmares and absentminded thoughts led her to crave _him_ and just him.

She made a slow right and admired the gorgeous paintings around her. Botticelli, Rockwell, Santiago … Ginny's eyes roamed the expensive art with jealousy. Many of them belonged in museums. She snorted when she spotted an Andy Warhol.

"Miss Wheezy," rasped a timid voice from behind her.

Shrieking like a mad woman, Ginny spun around and backed up against the wall. She sighed in relief when she came knee-to-face with a house elf. "Dobby?" she asked, shocked to the core.

He nodded. "Dobby is happy to see Miss Wheezy. Will Miss Wheezy please follow Dobby to eating room?" His eyes widened and he trembled slightly.

Ginny bent down and smiled softly. "I can find my own way," she told him gently, "There's no need for you to trouble yourself."

"Dobby is no troubling himself. Dobby does this for Minister as a favor. Dobby knows Minister is a good man," he explained in a rush.

"A good man?" Ginny repeated, not believing her ears. "You're saying the Minister is a _good_ man?"

"Yes. Dobby thinks he is a great man. A man who cares much for Miss Wheezy," he said breathlessly, unsure if his statements were allowed to be said.

Ginny swallowed, unable to process what he said. "Dobby," she whispered, "Is there a Floo anywhere on this level?" she asked, her fear now consuming her. Although she yearned to find out why he had left her, the explanation itself terrified her. She knew that it would hurt her – and in the midst of her brother's recent death – she simply knew she couldn't handle it.

"Dobby is not permitted to say," he replied, backing away from her.

She tried to coax him with the hair tie she had buried in her mass of red locks. "I could free you?" she suggested meekly. She exhaled exhaustedly. "Dobby, please," she begged, "I just really need to get home to my family."

"Dobby cannot, Miss Wheezy," he persisted, frightened. "Dobby cannot."

Ginny watched as his eyes scanned the area behind her and she spun around. "_Fuck_!" she screeched, falling back into Dobby as Draco glared menacingly from above her. Breathing heavily, she gripped Dobby's small hand and snapped, "Do you usually just lurk about in the shadows?!"

He smirked. "Usually, yes." He eyed a fearful Dobby. "Bribing my house elves, are you?"

"I wouldn't have to if you'd just let me leave," she retorted nastily, getting up and dusting off her dress. She glowered at him. "This is absolutely unnecessary and if I had my wand, I would-"

"Well, you don't, do you?" he interrupted her coolly. "That's what you get for seldom using it in Paris."

"How did you know that?" she breathed, confused.

Draco cleared his throat and gestured to Dobby. "I can escort Miss Weasley to the dining room, Dobby. You can go back to your rooms."

"Yes, Minister, Sir," he said hurriedly, leaving the scene.

Ginny didn't falter. "How did you know that?" she repeated, taking a defensive stance. For him to know that she didn't use her wand meant that he had watched her – or asked about her. She tried to ignore that relentless feeling in the pit of her stomach. Did he care?

"I hope you like sushi," he said absentmindedly, walking away from her and into another darkened corridor.

Ginny growled and trailed after him like an angry puppy. "I asked you a question, you arrogant arse, and I demand an answer!" She stomped her foot for an effect.

He snorted and shook his head. "I assumed you matured in France, but your petulance is as blinding as ever."

Her eyes widened at his insult. "You bastard," she hissed, grabbing the back of his suit jacket and jerking him to her. She pushed him up against the wall. "This little cat and mouse game that you're playing is ridiculous. I'm not a seventh year anymore, Malfoy. I grew up a _very_ long time ago." Anguish laced every word from her mouth. "I don't want to be here. Especially not with _you_."

His eyes darkened almost immediately. Without one word, he grasped her arms and changed their positions – Ginny was now up against the wall, horrified. He opened his mouth to say something, but he pursed his lips instead. His eyes were swimming with dark grays and blues and Ginny became lost in them. They were the very same eyes she fell in love with years ago.

"Draco, you're hurting me," she mumbled, wincing at his tight grip.

He instantly let go, but still said nothing.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

The question was simple, but its meaning was dire. An answer could rebuild or destroy – and although Ginny desired the former, she had no idea what to expect from him. She had not spoken to him in two years. She no longer knew his likes and his dislikes. He was different from who he used to be, just as she was.

"It was my ambition," he said suddenly, "To become Minister."

Ginny sighed. He was replying to her previous question in his bedroom.

"I guess you have everything you've always wanted."

"Not everything," he whispered, not looking at her. He stepped and cleared his throat. "Let's get to dinner."

She nodded dumbly and followed him through the winding halls of his manor. Some of the magical paintings around her stared down in pity. It was as if they knew what she was thinking and what had happened. Maybe they did.

"I actually do love sushi," she blurted randomly, falling into step with him. "A close friend of mine in Paris took a Japanese cooking class and the sushi she made was always so divine."

"It's a wonderful delicacy. It is a food that is either loved or hated," he stated, hands stiff at his sides.

_Gods_, Ginny thought, _this conversation was inane_. "Did you make the sushi yourself?" Something in her voice hinted that he didn't, but he turned to her and grinned.

"Actually, I did."

She gasped in surprise. "You did not!" she challenged, laughing. "_You_ were making sushi? The almighty Draco Malfoy actually sullying himself with raw fish? Unbelievable!"

"It's also the best sushi you'll ever have," he informed her arrogantly.

They finally reached a pair of oak doors. Draco suavely opened the right one and motioned for her to walk in. Ginny did without hesitation and struggled to catch her breath.

It was stunning. The table was as long as the House tables were back at Hogwarts, but scratches and indentations were absent; instead, the table gleamed underneath the chandeliers. The chairs were lined and cushioned with what Ginny could only identify as silk. She smiled. Draco was always a fan of silk and satin. Only two places were set – the head and the seat beside it.

"Come," he said formally, holding out his arm.

Ginny stared it for a few seconds before hesitantly putting her arm in his. They walked towards the gorgeous setting and he courteously pulled out her chair. She sat down, her emotions consuming her. It was like a dream – a dream she had been dreaming for a very long time. She had hoped – so _desperately_ hoped – for this to finally occur. Her mind had been full of thoughts of him – she would think of him at work, at her interviews, and at home. She wished that he would darken her doorstep and demand to love her.

She had dreamed.

Ginny released a shaky breath. He had not come to see her in Paris. Her dreams never came true. He completed his mission of becoming the Minister and married his rich and pureblooded wife. He lived in a striking manor by the sea and was delegated the fate of the Wizarding world. She had spent so much time daydreaming like a moron that she completely forgot that he had a life separate from her. And he chose that life in the end.

"You should try the shrimp tempura," he suggested brightly, picking up his chopsticks.

She did what he recommended and chewed slowly. It tasted delicious.

"The eel is amazing as well."

Her hands moved on their own accord while her mind strayed elsewhere. Isn't this what she had wanted? Hadn't she prayed for this day to come? To be near him again – to be close to him like this.

_No_.

She did not want to become some sort of mistress to the Minister. Her heart and her morals would not allow it. His wife was off visiting a friend and here he was: having dinner with her like it was normal. Pansy Malfoy was a good wife, Ginny noticed. She was sweet and intelligent and level-headed. To do this with Draco was to hurt Pansy and their unborn child. Ginny no longer wished to be a pawn in his game again.

"Ginevra?"

She looked up at him, steely brown eyes dark with determination. "Why did you leave me?" she asked, her heart thudding manically in her chest.

He stilled, silence filling the room.

"I never left. You did," he quipped, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"You broke my heart," she whispered, dropping the chopsticks.

He paused once more. "You weren't in my plans," he stated.

"Your plans?" she echoed hollowly.

"Yes," he replied shortly, gracefully eating his sushi without a care in the world.

She expected to feel pain and sorrow, but only anger spread throughout her body. "Tell me, _Minister_," she started icily, "What were your plans?" When he didn't respond, she proceeded with her verbal lashing, "Screw the female Weasley for a bit and then when all your fucking dreams come true, dump her in the end?" Ginny laughed bitterly and stood up, her napkin falling to the floor. "Neville told me about your _feature_ in the paper. You had planned all of this while we were …"

She could no longer find a word for what had transpired between them. "You knew that you would leave me, but instead of filling me in, you led me to believe that we had a future together. I thought …" She let out a soft sob. "I thought that … everything that you had told me was true. But now … coming here and seeing you and this life you built for _yourself_ … I realize that everything you did was to prepare for your _politics_. You can have your gorgeous wife and your prestigious position." She pushed the chair back, listening as it scratched deafeningly on the floor. "I left England for a reason. And I'm so bloody glad I did."

Just as she turned to stalk away, one phrase caused her to stiffen.

"You have no idea what the _hell_ you are saying," he hissed, enraged.

"I know exactly what I am saying," she retorted frigidly. She didn't bother to turn around. "It's you that can't decide what you want."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," he drawled.

"You are married to one of the most influential witches of our time," she stated slowly, spinning around to face him. "But, here you are, having dinner with a woman that you hurt years ago." Ginny threw her hands up in defeat. "You can't seem to choose!"

"Between what?" he snapped.

"Between your past and your present!" she whispered fiercely, staring at him with wide eyes.

"You're mental," he declared, wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin. "I am only dining with you out of convenience. You were inebriated to a point of unconsciousness and as the Minister, I offered to let you rest in a quiet place."

"I see." Her voice was void of emotion and her eyes drooped. "Well, Minister, I would like to thank you very much for your hospitality. And as my brother's funeral is approaching, I must be on my way to be with my family." Ginny blinked once to try and feel, but her entire body was numb. "If you would kindly show me the Floo …"

"It is rude to interrupt a dinner," he said, smirking.

"Fuck you," she spat carelessly. "Your manners may have an air of grace, but I _know_ better. You're still the same spoiled git that always got his way."

"And you're still a childish brat that never understands," he snapped, infuriated. He slapped both strong hands on the dinner table and flew away from the table. "You don't know the consequences of my actions – your actions – _our_ actions." He turned to her with violent eyes. "You think this is how I wanted things to turn out?"

"I don't know," she answered quietly. "I no longer know what it is that you want."

"You left," he said softly, rubbing his face tiredly. "You left and I …"

From the sound of his voice, Ginny knew that this conversation had taken a terrible turn. No matter what had happened in the past, they were now in the present, and he was a married politician. They both had individual lives and to intertwine those would be devastating.

"I left because you refused to return my owls," she suddenly divulged. "I left because after the whirlwind of insanity we shared together … you were quick to forget about me." Ginny shrugged, the words she had wanted to say for a long time seeping from her lips easily. "I don't know what hurt more. Leaving my family without so much as an explanation or losing the _relationship_," she enunciated the word, not sure what else to call what they had, "That I had with you." She let out a breath and traced a shaky finger down the back of the elegant chair. "And now, discovering that it was your mission all along to … to have all of this," she gestured to the room, "To have the Ministry and the wife and children and …" Her voice broke. "I was never a part of your future, was I?"

Silver eyes slowly made their way to her face and he looked ashamed and proud at the same time. _Only a feat that a Malfoy could perform_, Ginny thought.

She nodded, feeling irrelevant and ridiculous. "I need to go," she whispered, her breathing becoming erratic. She ran across the dining room, heart thudding painfully in her chest. She ignored his calls for her to come back, but she was sure she heard his swift footsteps behind her. She pushed the grand oak door open and practically flew into the corridor. Looking left and right, she made a quick decision and jetted to the left, her head spinning. He was following her. She could feel him, even if he was more than a few feet away.

Just as her foot caught the edge of the carpet, Ginny yelped and fell forward, but not before colliding into a hard body. She landed on top of the other person and tried to catch her breath.

Ginny rolled over and glanced at her personal landing bed. "Ron?" she gasped, staring in confusion as her brother groaned, face in the carpet.

He turned his head and sputtered. "Gin? What … what are you doing here?"

* * *

The rest of the story is in bits & pieces. I'm so ashamed to admit it. If I don't finish it, I'll post up the rest of the random scenes. Boo. I'm sorry, guys.


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